Wrong End of a Leash
by Stealth Dragon
Summary: Sheppard becomes the pet to an unusual, sentient being. But life on the leash isn't very pretty. Starts out seeming funny, but doesn't stay that way.
1. Abyss

A/N: Howdy there, and Happy Thanksgiving! A little insight before you read this story, which is my first Stargate: Atlantis Fanfic. The idea for it has been gnawing at me mercilessly since one of my many muses happens to be a piranha and is about to take my leg off if I don't follow through with this tale. It's set in season one, because I don't have cable and UPN has only just now started showing Stargate: Atlantis. So Sheppard is still a Major, Ford is still around, and those in season two are not even a blip in mental existence. Therefore, I apologize for the time warp, and any lack of knowledge I may have on certain aspects of the show. I'm working with what I got here, people. Thank goodness for the SGA website.

**Wrong End of a Leash**

Author: Stealth Dragon

Rating: T – for violence, especially against Sheppard, poor guy.

Disclaimer: Stargate: Atlantis – for the love of everything – does not belong to me! Why do so many try to argue otherwise? Oh, wait, those are just the voices in my head;) The creatures involved, however, are of my own creation.

Synopsis: Major John Sheppard becomes the pet of an usual, sentient creature. But life on a leash is a lot harder than it seems. This story starts out humorous, but believe me when I say it won't stay that way.

Ch. 1

Abyss

" Do the words 'Death Valley' Mean anything to you, McKay?" Major John Sheppard muttered. He passed his eyes over a land that was like a solidified sea of red dust and glass-smooth, sharp-edged rocks stretching to a horizon that melded into a yellow sky. There was a wind blowing, neither too strong or too weak, just enough to be annoying by spitting sand in Sheppard's eyes. He blinked against the grit and watched dust-devils try to rise up from the ground only to sputter out before they could even form a funnel.

John looked over at Rodney. The scientist and self-proclaimed genius was searching their surroundings with wide-eyed and slack-jawed disappointment. His hopes for stepping out of the gate into an endless debris field of ruins or an inhabited city was officially dashed. But John knew, with a continually sinking feeling, that McKay was far from being deterred.

" No, there has to be something here!" Rodney said. John rolled his eyes.

" Sure, maybe just over that hill."

Rodney turned his head to squint at the major. " What hill?"

John sighed. " Exactly, McKay. No hills, no mountains, no lakes, no rivers, no plants... and you know what else there isn't any of? Cities. Also, in point of fact, does this look like a good spot to have a city? Not exactly scenic, if you ask me."

" Well I didn't," Rodney grumbled, which elicited a small smirk from John. John was tired, hungry, and his body ached, so he felt justified in his petulance. This was the fourth world they had visited in a day. Like the last three, there were no cities in sight. Unlike the last three, there was nothing in sight. At least the previous worlds had sported trees, grass, and alterations in land features. This world appeared suitable as a land fill and not much else.

At least it wasn't inhumanly hot. In fact, John had to guess the temperature to be around seventy or so; spring-time temperatures. Maybe that was what had attracted the Ancients to this place. Then again, maybe it was a one season thing, and the rest of the year it was boiling hot. The world _looked_ liked it should be boiling hot.

This world – which Sheppard already dubbed as Mar's ugly twin sister – had been one of ten part of a list of worlds McKay had stumbled upon while digging through Atlantis' cryptic archives. A fluke really. He'd been poking around (with Sheppard's reluctant aid, of course) and up they popped. It had taken three days for him to convince Weir to let a team (Sheppard's team) explore just one of the worlds. When that one came up with nil, then it was on to the second, then third. Now here they were on what John could only describe as the crap-hole planet of the bunch – unless the next one happened to be worse.

Ford let out a sharp breath. " Another puddle jumper run, sir?"

John smiled. " McKay?"

Rodney was already in his element, holding up his precious little scanning device and reading it over. But he didn't look happy about it.

" No odd energy readings... of any kind. Definitely nothing that would send your pet _ship_ into the dirt nose first."

_Pet ship._ It almost made John chuckle out loud. Of course he would have never thought the puddle jumper in such terms, but now that Rodney had said it, John couldn't help it. The jumper he had first flown, first _awoken_, had unwittingly become his favorite. He enjoyed flying it to the degree that he was always looking for a reason to fly it, and it wasn't just because he loved to fly. The puddle jumper was like nothing he had ever flown before, and the way it responded to his very thoughts made it more than just a ship – it made the thing practically alive. So, yes, in a small way the hunk of metal and Ancient ingenuity was kind of like a pet, a pet he loved to take for a 'walk' whenever he could.

John nodded. " Another run it is. But if this planet ends up like the rest of them – empty and useless which I can already tell you it is – then the rest of the worlds can wait."

" I do not understand," Tayla said. " Why would the Ancients leave gates on worlds that are not inhabited?"

McKay gave Sheppard a withering look. " Maybe they are inhabited but further in."

" McKay, since when has any civilization we come across not been near enough to the gate for us to find _on foot_? That first world was an island, a very small island, and we still didn't find anyone or anything. Not even another island. So... Any other theories?"

Rodney huffed, then threw up his arms as though in defeat. " I don't know. Maybe they saw these worlds as potentially habitable, then changed their minds. Or maybe they saw them as nice vacation spots."

John started back in mock surprise, then glanced around. " Really?"

" You got a better theory, _major_, then I would like to hear it."

John continued to glance around though it was fairly obvious that there was little to see. Tayla did have a point. Why would there be a gate on a world that looked like it had been demolished by a dozen nukes?

Maybe that was the answer, not nukes but some other weapon that had turned everything to dust. Maybe these places had been scarcely populated, then the wraith came and sucked dry every last breathing thing. There were probably thousands of reasons why these worlds were so empty, and that the list found in the archives was in fact a list of failed worlds – or places to avoid. There was just too little to learn in order to determine anything.

Too bad McKay didn't see it that way.

Something howled, and John snapped his head around, looking directly left. It hadn't been a loud howl, or the kind that rose and fell like the cry of some animal. The sound that had caught his ear could have easily been overlooked, it was so low and monotone. But it was also long, drawn out, reminiscent of the wind through the trees yet far deeper.

" Well?" McKay pressed. John held up one hand for silence, keeping the other tight on his weapon.

The howl came again, low and lonely, coming with another gust of wind trying to make the sand dance.

" Did you hear that?" Sheppard asked.

" Hear what?" Rodney snapped.

" Shut up and listen, McKay."

Another howl, or moan, John wasn't quite sure what to call it. It came, then died, then came again a little lower. The sound made his blood run cold and he shivered.

" I heard something," Tayla said. " But barely. What is it?"

" I don't know," John murmured, and without realizing it he began moving in the direction the sound seemed to be emanating. He also heard the crunch of sand behind him as indication that the others were following not too far behind.

" Um, are you sure this is a good idea?" Rodney asked.

" You wanted to find something, McKay, so that's what we're doing – finding something."

The howling, when it came again, sounded louder and deeper, as though whatever was making it was massive beyond comprehension. Yet there was nothing to see. John kept walking, and the sound became all encompassing, pushing through his skin to vibrate his bones.

" What is that!" Rodney shouted above the monstrous moan.

The sound pushed against John's ears, expanding in his chest. It was not painfully loud, just uncomfortably strong. He looked all around for the source, then looked down and halted abruptly.

" Crap!" He shouted, taking a step back. He had been only two steps away from walking over the lip of the most massive pit he had ever seen.

The others stepped up beside him, and stared into the monolithic chasm with both wide-eyed wonder and fear. The flatness of the land, and its solid rust coloring, had hidden the thing from them, which seemed almost absurd. Sheppard began walking around the thing, and gaged it to be roughly around a forth of a mile wide, or more. The depth, which he could not tear his eyes from, looked beyond measure. The sides of the chasm sloped inward but none too gently, dropping forever down into inky darkness like a starless void – a planet-bound black hole. Staring into it was like staring into infinity. John's heart began to hammer, sweat bead on his forehead, neck, and back, and his brain screamed at him to turn away. He shrank from it, taking a step back, yet still unable to turn away.

" This-this is amazing!" McKay breathed, following John as he slowly walked the circumference of the chasm as though circling a sleeping predator. " It has to be miles deep."

" It explains the sound," Ford said, stiff with unease. " Hate to fall into something like that."

" I have never seen anything like it," Tayla said.

Dust picked up by the wind spilled into the chasm, reminding John of water trickling into a hole – or a massive maw.

Ford crouched and picked up a sand polished rock, tossing it in. They heard it clatter down the steep incline until its sharp reverberations became swallowed up in the depth and the howling.

" We need to go back," McKay said suddenly. John looked at the scientist in disbelief. Since when had Rodney ever wanted to go back after a major discovery? McKay looked at John.

" For the jumper. We need to see how deep this thing goes, what might be down there."

John narrowed his eyes at McKay. " Oh yeah? And what if there's something down there that causes the jumper to lose power and get stuck? How would we get out? I kind of left my rock climbing equipment back on earth."

McKay shrugged. " It's probably not as deep as it looks."

" What does your little toy say?"

Rodney held his scanner out toward the hole. " Nothing, actually. Huh... weird. It's like the hole isn't even there."

" Exactly," John replied. " If we send anything down, it's going to be a machine, something remote controlled... _minus _any humans. Who knows what could be down there. Lava, cave-dwelling man-eating insects... caves plus human meat – never a good combination."

Rodney rolled his eyes. " Come on, John. Just because it's all dark and scary doesn't mean a monster lives down there."

" McKay, ever seen the movie _Dune?"_

Rodney sighed. " I read the book, actually. Those giant worms were tame, if you don't recall."

" Okay then, ever seen the movie _Tremors_? Imagine that something besides a meteor or natural causes made this hole. Imagine it to be a worm hole made by a real worm, one as large as the worms on _Dune_ but nasty like the ones on _Tremors_. Kind of makes you hesitant about going down a really big hole on a lifeless planet, doesn't it McKay?"

McKay opened his mouth, then clapped it shut, paling slightly. " Well, I guess there's no immediate rush to see what's down there. At least we can finally say that we found something."

Sheppard smiled. " Glad you finally see the light. Let's head back to base, tell them this wasn't such a waste after all."

They all turned to head back. John took only two steps when he felt his feet pulled out from beneath him. He fell onto his side with a grunt, and continued sliding.

" What the hell?" He looked around, and to his horror found himself being pulled along by a river of loosened sand spilling over the lip of the chasm, and spilling fast. Panic swelled in his chest, making it hard to breath. He flipped onto his stomach, clawing at the sand to try to pull himself up. But the sand was deep, and increasing in speed when it came to the edge. He reached out, grabbing onto rocks that gave way to go clattering down the precipice.

" He – help!" he cried, already going over the edge. He continued to claw and grab, then felt the sickening emptiness of being weightless. He was falling, but the fall stopped when his hands caught onto the jagged, sharp edges of two rocks jutting from the steep incline.

" Major!" He heard Tayla cry. He tried to look up but sand continued to pour down all over him.

" Sir!"

" John, can you reach!"

John managed to plant his feet against the uneven wall. He pushed up with his feet and pulled with one hand, using the other to reach up as sand pushed against him.

" No, major, to your right, your right!"

Sheppard stretched to the right, gripping the rock tighter with his other hand until it stung. He felt something warm and wet run down his arm, and it was making the rock difficult to hold onto.

" Rodney!" John cried out desperately, choking on sand. " Ford! Tayla!"

" John, damnit! I can't reach you, not without getting pulled in. You need to climb up."

John tried. He searched the wall for another hand hold, and pushed up farther with his feet.

Suddenly, his feet slipped, and his weight yanked his hand from the slippery rock.

" Major!" he heard Tayla scream before he felt, again, the sickening lurch of being weightless as he plummeted.

He impacted with the wall, hard, driving the breath from his lungs. He impacted again, then again, tumbling down the steep incline, then sliding, rolling, then tumbling again. He tried grabbing for hand holds, but his momentum pulled him away as the sharp rocks sliced his hands.

The tumbling became a rolling slide that was agonizing and endless. Pain shot up his arm when he tried to reach out to stop himself, then more pain radiated out from his ribs. He fell, and fell, and fell, and thought that he would fall forever. Soon, darkness swallowed him, and still he fell, his screams echoing all around him.

Then he began to slow, sliding more and rolling less, hard rock giving way to soft sand that took most of the impact until finally he stopped all together.

John lay where he was, spread-eagle on his back with his eyes tightly shut. Pain, all he felt was terrible pain, and all he heard was the roar of blood through his ears. He was panting, and it created more pain, but he couldn't stop. He had to breathe fast for the oxygen to keep up with his rapidly pounding heart.

All John wanted to do was to lay there, just until his head stopped spinning. But he couldn't, he was in trouble. He needed help. Slowly, carefully, he peeled his eyelids apart. All he saw was darkness broken only by what looked to be a small, blinding yellow moon. He blinked away the film covering his eyes, staring at that moon, wondering why he hadn't seen it before, it was so bright. Then, with a jolt that made his heart skip, he realized what he was looking at.

It was the entrance to the pit.

Terror tried to get him to move, which sent a fiery river of agony ripping through his bones, causing him to grit his teeth and utter a combination cry and whimper of pain. Then his vision blurred, sparking with stars as that pain hammered through his skull.

_I'm dying_, he thought. Something moved into his line of vision, fading as it was. It was large, illuminated by oval, phosphorescent eyes. It was a snouted head, like the head of some great reptilian beast – or something like that, John wasn't sure.

_Great, a man-eating worm._ But by then it didn't matter. Darkness filled his vision, his mind, and his eyes slid closed, shutting off all reality.

SGA

A/N: Uh-oh! So, what do you think? Should I keep going? Don't worry, I know what's going to happen. I never write a story until I have it all planned out. Please comment. Reviews are such good motivation.

For those of you familiar with, and reading, my CSINY story, not to worry. I'm still working on that. I'll just be doing a little alternating between the two.


	2. Rescue Attempt

A/N: Wow! So many reviews for just one measly chapter. I'm – I'm touched into speechlessness. Well, you wanted more, so more you will get. Launch story!

Oh, and since I'm not good with numbers or measurements, such specifics will not be mentioned all that much. Sorry.

Ch. 2

Rescue Attempt

" Major! Major Sheppard!" Rodney screamed until his lungs seared and his voice died off into a small fit of coughing. He was drowned out by the moaning wind that was like a bassoon being blown into a microphone within a massive stadium.

Beside him, Tayla and Ford were shouting as well, barely audible even to Rodney.

_Screw this!_ He thought frantically. He turned, and began running toward the gate, glancing over his shoulder back at the other two.

" Come on, we need to get a jumper down there!"

Teyla and Ford followed after him without hesitation.

Rodney nearly collided with the DHD and began dialing home as Ford prepped to send their IDC. Once the symbols were locked, the gate rushed to life with its usual explosion of crystal liquid melting back into itself to form the shimmering pool.

" Command, we've got an emergency, we're coming home," Ford said into his radio, and immediately plunged into the gate, followed by Teyla then a reluctant Rodney. He almost opted to stay and keep shouting for the Major, at least in hopes that the Major might hear and know that help was on the way. But he needed to be at Atlantis to help prepare for what he already felt might be a very tricky rescue.

With one last desperate look back in the direction of the chasm, Rodney stepped into the gate.

SGSGSGSGSG

" How much cable is that?" Rodney asked as he watched the cable slowly wind onto the massive spool now bolted to a puddle jumper.

" About three miles worth," someone replied.

_Will that be enough?_ McKay thought, but knew it would have to be. Time was being an enemy at the moment, and each second that ticked by in Rodney's mind could very well be another pint of blood dripping from the major's body.

The logical part of Rodney's brain, always at the forefront, kept telling him that on no conditional terms was the major alive. No one could have survived a drop like that. Rodney had heard John's screams as they became lost into the distance – or to unconsciousness. They resounded in his skull like a bad song now stuck in his head playing over and over, and it was making him sick. Rodney shuddered for the fifth time since arriving back at Atlantis, and checked his watch for the fiftieth.

" Where's that MALP!" Rodney barked, his heart hammering.

" Got it doc," Ford replied, guiding the one-armed robot into the jumper via remote. The plan was to send the MALP down first for a few pictures and to locate Major Sheppard. Then if all looked clear, they would set the jumper down at the bottom – assuming there was a bottom and not a pool of magma or lake of water. In which case, Sheppard was already dead.

Again, another shudder, followed by a viciously churning gut.

Rodney hurried to the front of the jumper that was already facing the gate, ready to enter. The pilot at the controls looked up at McKay and nodded.

" Everything's ready, sir," he said. He was a young guy, a kid to McKay's point of view. McKay tried not to think about it, about how nervous it made him, because then it led him to wishing that Sheppard was here to pilot this thing. McKay didn't want to deal with the sickening irony of the thought.

" Good, great, awesome..." he then hurried back to the winch that was finally wound into place. Dr. Weir approached, her face pale and her features tight.

" Is everything ready?" she asked.

" Yeah, as ready as we're going to get," Rodney replied.

Weir swallowed tightly. " Good. We'll keep the gate open for communication purposes. And the shield down. Bring him back, McKay, please."

McKay's shoulders sagged. Again, his logical mindset wanted to cry out the absurdity of Sheppard being alive, let alone in one piece. But the first person he would have to scream at would be himself.

" I'll – um – try, I hope..."

Dr. Weir nodded stiffly, then turned just as stiffly to head to the control room. McKay watched her go, ill with so much unease that he was mentally locating places appropriate to lose his lunch if it ever came to that. He had nearly done so on telling Weir that they had witnessed Major Sheppard go plummeting into what could only be described as a bottom-less pit.

Four soldiers, plus Tayla and Dr. Beckett, hurried onto the jumper. Four more soldiers held back to come through after the jumper and secure the area.

_Like it needs it, _McKay thought irritably, but in a truth that he wouldn't admit, he felt safer knowing that there would be more than just two other people around.

" Let's go," McKay said. The bay doors slowly shut as McKay backed away to take his seat. After that, the gate was activated, and the jumper slipped through.

Once past the roller coaster ride that was the worm hole, they exited into the yellow and red tinted world. McKay unbuckled himself and moved to the front.

" Head that way," he said, pointing in the direction of the pit. From their vantage above the ground, they could see it stretched across the sand like an open wound in the planet's skin. The young pilot maneuvered the jumper over the massive hole, and his jaw went slack.

" Woe! that's freakin' huge," he breathed.

" You think," McKay mumbled caustically, heading to the back and the winch. Ford and another soldier were already hooking up the MALP to the cable. McKay took a hand-held view screen from his pack of equipment on the floor, and configured it to receive signals from the one-armed robot.

" We're ready," Ford announced.

" Open the doors," McKay said.

The bay doors opened, and wind brought sand pelting against the metal interior. Ford controlled the MALP as a second soldier handled the winch, holding down the switch that unwound the cable. As the MALP neared the edge of the door, Ford slowed it and carefully pushed it forward inch by inch, with the cable unwinding in the same manner. Soon it was over the side, swinging slightly, and the cable was allowed to unwind continuously, lowering the MALP into the chasm.

" Too damn slow," Rodney growled as he watched the screen, the view shifting from the chasm lip to the chasm wall. Dr. Beckett and Tayla also observed from over his shoulder. He wanted to snap at them for the annoyance it caused him, but couldn't tear his eyes from the screen. The light from the MALP shining on the wall created a glittering effect refracting off the myriad of minerals, rocks and crystals. The effect created was mesmerizing, as well as unnervering. The rocks looked sharp enough to tear flesh – Sheppard's flesh to be exact.

" Come on," Rodney urged with gritted teeth, then he sighed in frustration. " Can't this thing move any faster?"

" Not really sir," Ford replied, his voice strained with his own impatience.

Rodney licked suddenly dry lips and began tapping his finger on the side of the screen. In the corner of the screen, the meters were being ticked off as the MALP went down, and Rodney didn't like how the depth kept going.

The MALP was soon in deep, and still hadn't hit any sort of a bottom. Suddenly, the screen blinked, warped, then the image vanished all together.

Rodney's heart tried to crawl into his throat. " What the hell!" He began slapping the screen as though it were the problem and not the machine dangling like a worm hundreds of meters below them.

" What happened?" Becket asked, looking from Rodney to the screen.

" Bring the MALP up!" McKay cried. The winch hummed back to life as it began rewinding the cable. As it did, the screen suddenly flickered back on.

" Woe, woe, wait!" McKay cried, and stared at the screen in perplexity. " It's – it's back up. Um, lower it back down."

The soldier at the winch reversed the switch, and the cable lowered the MALP. Again, the screen blinked out, causing Rodney to start in surprise.

" _What the hell_!" Rodney snapped, though it came out as more of a high-pitched whine.

" I say bloody hell's more like it. What's goin' on Rodney?" Carson asked.

McKay shook his head. For once in his life, he was stumped, completely stumped. " Um, I..." He shook his head. " Raise it up again."

The winch rewound, and the MALP rose, coming back to life.

" Huh. Must be something down there that disrupts the power." Which might have explained why he didn't get any readings from the tunnel as though the massive pit didn't even exist. But no time for speculation.

" You know what, just keep lowering the thing until the cable goes slack, see if there's a bottom."

The soldier at the winch nodded, and reversed the pull. With nothing to watch, the three gathered around the bay doors, observing the cable for signs of slacking. Minutes passed that felt more like hours, and McKay's heart refused to take up a slower pace. In turn, he found, to his discomfort, that he was beginning to sweat profusely.

Carson let out a heavy breath. " I know no one wants to hear this, but this is startin' to look less and less promising. If... If Major Sheppard did survive the drop, his injuries would be so serious that..."

McKay held up his hand. " Dr. Beckett, no offense, but personally I'd rather not hear about it. Let's just see if there's a bottom to this crap-hole, and get Major Sheppard out. _Then_ we can discuss chances of survival and mortality rates to your heart's content."

After McKay said this, the winch suddenly stopped.

" What the... hey!" Mckay said, turning on the soldier. The young man was holding a part of the now slackened cable in his hand, smiling triumphantly.

" Saw it curling slightly on the floor, sir, I think we hit bottom."

McKay's eyes rounded over. " Well then, bring it back up so we can get down there."

The soldier reversed the winch, pulling the MALP back up.

" Wait a minute, sir," Ford said, coming up to stand in front of Rodney. " The MALP shorted out down there. Who says that won't happen to the jumper?"

Rodney's heart took a nose dive into his stomach. " Oh, crap, I forgot about that."

Ford shook his head. " Never mind about that, sir, I already got an idea. Send me and two other men down there on the cable."

Beckett shook his head vehemnantly. " No, you can't do that. It's too far down and too dangerous. You wouldn't be able to hold on for very long. You'd go plummeting down yerselves."

McKay snapped his fingers, beaming with a sudden onslaught of inspiration. " We can shorten the distance by lowering the jumper just above where the MALP went out, then hold her there. As long as we stay above that line we should be all right"

" We've got stuff here I can use to rig hand holds," Ford said. " Plus, since you'll be in the hole, we can signal when we're ready to come up by firing about three shots. The acoustics of this thing should help you catch the noise without a hitch."

Beckett still shook his head, furrowing his brow with unease. " I still don't know..."

Rodney, however, wasn't listening to him. Instead, he rushed to the front of the ship to relay the plan to Weir on the other side of the gate.

" Sounds risky, McKay," Weir replied. " I don't know..."

" Elizabeth, please. We have no other choice at the moment. If Sheppard's alive and injured then he needs to be brought out of there. The distance from where the MALP went out to the floor wasn't that far. I'm confident that we can do this. Besides, the MALP didn't go out right away. If something should start to occur, we can still pull out."

There came a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on into eternity.

" All right, McKay, but be careful. We don't want to end up losing the rest of you as well."

" You won't I promise. McKay out."

McKay then looked at the young pilot. " Okay, private, listen and listen good. Slowly lower the jumper down into the cave, and when I say stop, you stop and hold it in position."

" Yes sir," the pilot replied. Rodney glanced over his shoulder to see Ford and two other cadets removing the cable from the just arrived MALP, then using scraps of cable, hooks, wires, rope, and to McKay's alarm duct tape to form feet and hand holds.

" Duct tape, are you serious?"

Ford looked up at McKay and grinned, holding up a roll of the silver tape. " You'd be surprised what you can do with a little duct tape."

" Handy man's secret weapon, sir," said a brown-haired soldier.

McKay rolled his eyes, then looked back at the controls.

" Okay, bring something up like a – depth gage or something."

" Yes sir."

A holographic screen appeared, and like his own hand-held viewer was ticking off the distance they were traveling downward – in meters, to McKay's partial surprise, rather than some form of Ancient mathematics. But then again the jumpers did have a way of catering to every pilot's need. It just never ceased to amaze him.

He watched these measurements carefully while looking back to his screen and the data that had been recorded while the MALP was being lowered.

" Okay, stop here, this is perfect."

The jumper stopped moving and remained hovered just a yard above where the MALP had begun to fizzle out.

" Okay, Ford, you're turn," McKay said, turning and folding his arms.

Ford grinned, picking up the end of the cable. The solider at the winch turned the machine on, giving Ford some slack. McKay watched, squirming slightly with discomfort, and Ford fitted his feet into his make-shift holds, then carefully climbed over the door to dangle in nothingness. Two other soldiers followed suit as the cable continued to go down. One of the soldiers had a first aid kit strapped to his back, and was given some last minute instructions by Beckett before heading down.

" You're not going?" McKay asked Beckett. The Scotsman looked at McKay as though he had just lost it.

" I'm Atlantis' chief physician. I'm not exactly permitted to be puttin' myself in any sort of harms way say for a thrashing patient." Beckett then peered over the rim of the door, paling and swallowing as the darkness of the pit filled his vision. " I'll... probably have to go down... once it's deemed, you know, safe."

McKay walked up to Beckett and patted his shoulder. " I don't envy you. I really don't."

SGSGSGSGSG

Ford was a trained soldier, able to charge into a fight with bullets zipping centimeters from his head like mutant mosquitos. Yet staring down into a darkness not even the lights of the jumper could fully penetrate was making his blood run cold and producing a chilled sweat in return. But it was only unease he was feeling, not fear, and most of his emotions were geared toward his commanding officer.

Ford was clinging tenaciously to the hope that his CO was still alive. Everything he was seeing – the steep angle of the walls and sharp rocks – argued otherwise, but he refused to listen. He had witnessed the major survive what probably should have killed him by now; wraiths, giant ticks, Genii assaults – and that was just off-world dangers. Ford also took into consideration dangers the Major had face on earth.

It wasn't right if he died like this, having fallen into an alien pit on a dead, alien world. The man's life couldn't - _shouldn't_ – end in such a terrible, accidental way.

The light on Ford's P-90 had flickered out a long time ago, and as he was lowered farther into the pit, he looked up to see the lights of the jumper grow smaller, and below him more dim. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing his hammering heart to slow down at least a little.

" Please be all right sir," he whispered. The darkness around him grew thicker, all consuming, and instead of slowing his heart started beating faster.

" Easy Ford, there's a bottom. There _is_ a bottom, and Major Sheppard's down there... Crap this thing is deep." Ford looked back up. The jumper was looking small, really small.

Suddenly, Ford's feet hit something solid, jarring him slightly. Startled, he released his hand-hold on the cable and stumbled back, nearly falling when his feet sank into soft sand.

" Woe! I hit the bottom!" he called up to his two comrads.

" Finally!" Lt. Davidson breathed.

Ford reached behind himself and pulled out a flare and three glow sticks. He snapped the sticks and shook them, tossing them out to the right, left, and front. He then ignited the flare, surrounding himself in a circle of red and orange. Once Davidson and Gale hit the bottom, they pulled out their own sticks and flares, pushing back a small bit of encompassing darkness. Ford looked up to see the distant lights of the jumper and the yellow circle that was the entrance to the chasm.

" Wow, this thing really is deep." He turned to survey their surroundings. To his shock, the flare revealed them to be standing on some sort of a dune that stretched down into even more darkness. They hadn't reached the bottom, just the top of a mountainous pile of sand.

" Lt. Ford! Over here!" Davidson called. He was further down the dune, and a little to the right. Ford trudged through the precarious red sand to where Davidson was standing, holding something up.

It was the Major's weapon.

Ford turned and began searching the dune, pulling out more glow sticks, lighting them, and tossing them down the dune.

" Major Sheppard!" Pt. Gale called. The younger soldier came half-running, half-trudging up to him. In his hands were the Major's handgun and ammo pack.

" Found these scattered further up. And... sir..." Gale said, swallowing. " I also found blood."

Ford's breath caught in his throat. " Where?"

Gale handed the pack to Ford, who brought his flare in as close as safely possibly. He saw something dark and red fleck and smeared all over the straps, the top, and a little on the back. There was probably more blood on the sand and rocks, but with everything so freakishly red, including the flares, there would be no way of finding it.

So Ford settled on trying to find the Major. They spread out, keeping within sight of eachother's flares while they slogged down the dune. Like the chasm, it seemed to go on forever, and the jumper and entrance above them became smaller, increasing Ford's discomfort.

Eventually the dune did level out, making the going easier, and Ford saw what appeared to be a dim, red-tinted light replace some of the darkness. It was getting a little easier to see, and Ford could make out the shadowy outlines of an uneven ceiling high above indicating a tunnel entrance. They were in a massive cave.

Ford turned his gaze to the ground, and slowed. The sand had become more compact from moisture dripping off the cave in soft pats, and a solid rock floor beneath. Ford crouched, bringing his flare into close to what appeared to be an impression in the sand. What he saw sent cold fear ripping down his spine.

It was a claw-print, a huge claw-print, bigger than anything he had ever seen, and certainly bigger than any print a predator on earth could make. Also unlike any earth creature, the claw-print was also like a hand, three-fingered with a thumb, alternating with four-toed feet. Ford stood, tensing, and searched his strange surroundings, listening into the silence for the slightest sound.

" Davidson, Gale!"

" Nothing yet, sir!" Davidson replied.

" No, get back to the top of the dune and the cable, now!" Ford shouted, and already began the arduous process of running back up a steep dune, glancing behind him all the while.

The prints had been moving from the dune, into the cave, and they had looked fresh.

The three men arrived back at the dangling cable, panting, sweating, but fueled by an adrenaline rush created by urgency. They took up their holds on the cable, securing their feet. Ford, after slinging the Major's pack over his shoulder, then fired his weapon at the wall, and the explosion was deafening, making him wince and utter a cry of pain.

The cable moved, and the three were pulled back up to the awaiting jumper.

Once they were all aboard, McKay rushed to them.

" So, what happened? Did you find him?"

Ford didn't speak. He couldn't, not yet. His throat felt as though it were closing up on him, and swallowing was painful. He shook his head, letting the bloodied pack slide from his shoulder and handing it to McKay.

McKay's face paled. " Wh-what?"

Ford took a deep breath, and forced the words out before his throat tightened to the point that he could not speak.

" He wasn't there... sir." He took another deep breath, and felt Teyla place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

" What do you mean he wasn't there?" McKay snapped.

Ford blinked back tears burning in his eyes, keeping them from falling. But it was hard. Hardened soldier that he was supposed to be, it was just too difficult to hold back the sorrow.

" I – I think... something took him. I found tracks, animals tracks. They were huge, clawed." He swallowed again. " The Major's gone, sir."

McKay's face fell, his jaw dropped, and he took a step back, shaking his head. Teyla looked away, and Beckett dropped into his seat with his hand covering his mouth.

" No..." Rodney gasped.

Ford turned his stinging gaze to the floor and closed his eyes. Images, terrible images, of beasts, blood, and pain-filled screams, flooded his mind unbidden, and his control slipped another massive degree.

" We were too late," he said. The words were hard to get out, barely heard, but in the silence that fell around them, managed to be heard.

SGSGSGSGSG

A/N: Ack! Sorry for a lack of Sheppard. I was going to have him in this chapter, but it ended up longer than I had expected. So sorry. Don't worry though, you will soon learn the fate of our man John, and it shall be interesting.

Also, the comment made by the soldier about duct tape was taken from the Red Green Show, if anyone has ever seen it.


	3. Oh What Bright Eyes you Have

A/N: Reviews for the last chapter came fast. You really do like it! I shall try to not disappoint. I hope you like this chapter. Lots of Sheppard.

Ch. 3

Oh What Bright Eyes you Have

Pain. Pretty much the story of Sheppard's life. He was a soldier, paid to run head-on into dangerous situations, so it was only reasonable that pain came with the territory. Still, it wasn't anything one got used to. Tolerated out of necessity, yes, since pain insisted on being the biggest distraction it could be. But to get used to it? Normally that indicated a major flaw in one's own mentality. A massive flaw if one came to actually _enjoy_ the pain. Now that was messed up.

John was definitely – thankfully – not to that point of mental deterioration. In fact, he wasn't even to the point where he could push the distraction that was pain to the back of his mind for later dealings. The pain he felt now was a body-consuming torrent of agony, brought to life with the slightest movement. There was no possible, sane way he could ignore what he was feeling.

Therefore, his occasional gasps and whimpers of pain were justified. It was hard to maintain a brave facade when he could feel his ribs grating together.

The pain was the only thing he was aware of, say for distant sounds and strange sensations of movement that reignited the agony like water spilling from a busted dam. Sometimes, to his shock, he became aware of something prying his jaws apart. Following that came a terrible, bitter liquid that burned down his throat, making him gag and writhe, only to pass out because of the pain. Yet, when he regained partial consciousness, it would always be to a numbed body free of the torrent. He could still feel his ribs grate, though.

He never became fully aware of anything. He was swimming in darkness as though he had gone blind, and sometimes panicked, thinking that he was in fact blind. Then his eyelids would peel themselves apart, just enough to allow a thin sliver of light to peek through, and calm his hammering heart. After that, he would drift back into the darkness, lulled into lethargy by distant sounds that reminded him – oddly enough – of dolphins.

_Atlantis has dolphins?_ Or maybe something dolphin like. But that couldn't be right. They had yet to encounter any sea creatures say for a few small fish and something that resembled a leg-less otter. Those were rather cute, but horribly shy.

When the lethargy passed, though never enough for him to fully awake, Sheppard strained his ears to catch the distinct accent that could only be Beckett, or the rapid-fire monologue that was McKay. The problem was, none of the sounds he heard even remotely resembled human speech. And as his sluggish brain processed this, he also realized that there were a few other factors missing. No horrid sensation of choking because he had a tube down his throat, or the softness of a medical bed beneath his body, or even an oxygen mask covering his face.

With these first realizations, others soon followed. There were strange smells, something metallic and wet. He felt smooth, leathery material beneath his fingers, and there was something tugging at his ankle.

Sheppard forced himself from the pleasant, numbing darkness in order for his mind to recollect. He remembered being on some weird world, all red dust and not much else. No, wait, there _was_ something else. A great big hole, a chasm. John remembered looking into it, then stepping away, then...

Reality rushed back into John's fogged brain, ripping apart any chance of returning back to a peaceful oblivion.

_I fell_.

The sensation of falling, of being swallowed into darkness as his body was battered and broken against the rocky wall, consumed him. And with that memory, his heart started pounding faster and faster. His eyes snapped open, and he immediately tried to sit up. He barely pushed himself off the hard ground more than an inch when the pain returned with a vengeance, forcing him back down with a groan. He lay on his back, panting, staring up at a red ceiling flecked with small, colored crystals and stones.

John furrowed his brow.

_Okay, that's definitely not right._ He was supposed to be looking up at the chasm entrance, with blackness surrounding him like a wall.

John rolled his head slowly to the side. He was in some kind of cave, more like a cavern big enough to hold a blue whale, illuminated by a yellow tinted light that seemed almost like natural light, if slightly dimmer. There were items in this cave – odd skins for the most part, one of which Sheppard was lying on. The skins were brown, scaly, but thick, soft, and warm. On one of the skins was what looked to be a ball – a large ball - stitched together from patches of the same material, plus some sort of braided rope tied to what could only be described as the branch of a yellow tree. There were other objects on the skin, and objects scattered about the cave, all with a purpose unknown to Sheppard.

But they were hand-made, which was good enough for the Major. Better a thinking culture that can use its hands to build rather than one that used hands only to tear meat from bones.

Sheppard tried to take a deep breath, but winced. His chest and sides still hurt, but at least he wasn't being plagued by that grating sensation. When he tried to move his arms, his right arm cramped, causing him to suck in a hissing breath.

_Well, won't do that again,_ he thought. But pain or no pain, he wanted to get up and assess his situation. So, using only one arm, he slowly pushed himself up while simultaneously scooted himself back little by little until his spine touched the uneven wall. With the same cautious monotony, he eased himself back with a few curses and winces until his back was resting as comfortably as possible against the rock.

The first thing Sheppard did was to look down at himself, and almost burst out laughing. He was fully dressed, with bandages of the same skin but tanned thin wrapped around his chest and arm on the outside of his clothes. Apparently, this was a very inhibited society he had stumbled upon, or they had been unable to work the vest and the zipper of his jacket.

Sheppard glanced around to see if any of his saviors were about, but the cave was absolutely empty. It ended at a solid rock face to the right, but continued on to the left at a downward angle where it appeared to open up into another cave or tunnel. The dolphin-like sounds echoed to him from somewhere within that tunnel, but there came no cries or shouts indicative of battle. Whatever the creatures were that made those sounds, they were obviously not dangerous.

John took the opportunity of solitude to fix the natives' attempt at healing him. Both his hands were wrapped tightly in a thin, yellow gauze-like material stained brown by dried blood. He unwrapped the gauze from the hand of his busted arm, and found the gashes in his palms scabbed over and pain free.

" Huh," John said, arching his brow in amazement. He rebound his hand, then began undoing the bandage around his arm, then his chest. With nothing supporting his busted arm, the act was a lot more effort then it should have been. The knot holding the bandage in place wasn't tight, so once undone the bandage fell away. Then came the hard part, removing his vest, jacket, and shirt. It was worse than the bandage. He winced, grimaced, and let out broken cries of agony as he removed the the three layers of clothes. It left him doubled over, panting and trembling with the pain and sudden cold. The cave was freezing, which shouldn't have been a surprise, but he hadn't noticed until now.

John looked down at himself. His body was a mess of dark bruises and scabbing cuts, especially about his ribcage. He was glad he couldn't see his back.

His arm was just as mottled, but thankfully not crooked at the break. John wrapped the bandage back around his arm as tight as was tolerable, then took the second bandage and proceeded to wrap that around himself. The problem was, it needed to be tight, and John's broken arm hurt too much to move and press one end of the bandage against his side.

Pain sapped John's strength fast. He tossed the bandage down in frustration, breathing heavily. He unconsciously sat back against the wall, only to pull away at the cold that bit into his unprotected flesh. He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his knees up to his chest, shivering harder. He wanted to put his jacket on, but his previous movements had tapped him out, and the pain was taking longer to abate. The only thing he could do now was wait for one of the natives to return and help him out, considering whether or not they were friendly. For all he knew, they had saved him just to keep him alive for questioning, and couldn't care less if he was in pain.

John watched the entrance of the cave expectantly, verging on desperately. The cold actually hurt, soaking into his skin to touch his bones, adding to the pains already in existence.

A high trill pierced the air louder than the distant calls that had kept away the silence. John's heart lurched, and he stiffened, slowing his breaths.

There came scrapes, clacks, and clattering of small stones down the incline. Suddenly, the most unusual head John had ever seen crested over the rise. The creature was bright red, gold, and orange, with a beak-like snout ridged along the top by tiny spikes. Two large, webbed ears flanked either side of its head, and two small horns curled back toward the neck. It also had a thick bronze-colored mane of fur starting from its head and extending down its long, reptillian neck like the shorn mane of a horse. The creature glanced around with wide, oval, phosphorescent eyes, its mouth turned up in what looked to be a smile.

The creature's glowing eyes landed on Sheppard and stayed there. Sheppard's own eyes rounded over, and the breath caught in his throat.

_I'm screwed._

The creature moved toward Sheppard, revealing the thing's body. It walked on all fours with its mane continuing along its back, rising and peaking at the shoulder blades then decreasing down to the tip of its long, lizard tail. Yellow-tinted light glinted off of copper bracelets around its wrists, ankles, tail, and various metals attached to braided ropes dangling from the thing's neck.

Sheppard's gaze, however, kept returning to the long curved claws clacking on the rocks as the thing trotted over to him. John's heart beat faster and faster as it neared. The thing was roughly the size of an Asian elephant, and capable of taking Sheppard's head off with a single bight if it wanted to.

Fear consumed Sheppard, sending his mind reeling into panic. Ignoring the pain, he began to scrabble back as the thing slowed and approached as though about to pounce. John fell several times, inflaming the bruises on his back. Suddenly, he was brought to a halt when something pulled against his ankle. He reached down to try and pull it away, feeling more of the soft leather weaved together, forming a kind of bracelet. As he felt along this binding, his hand encountered more of the leather trailing away – a rope. He turned his head, briefly, to see the rope tied to a large stake of yellow wood hammered into a crack in the floor. John had been tethered like an animal.

The creature had slowed even more on its approach, and all John could do was huddle, cringing, against the wall, panting fast and shaking. He searched for a loose rock, a piece of wood, or anything else that could be used as a weapon. When the creature was closer, he tried yanking at the rope again, but both it and the stake held fast.

" He-Hey!" he cried, hoping one of the natives caught the call and came rushing in before their _pet_ decided to make John a chew-toy.

" Hey! Help!" he cried again. The creature stopped, lifting its head on its sinewy neck, twitching its head from side to side like a curious pup. Then it moved closer, and reached out tentatively with its four-fingered paw.

John pulled back, only to fall onto his back, crying out when pain radiated from his spine. Still in the throes of panic, he rolled onto his chest, trying to push himself up with one arm. He was shaking too bad to keep his balance, and fell onto his side with another cry. Pain filled his brain with a gray fog, and his mind wavered on the precipice of consciousness.

Something touched his back, and he cringed, curling into himself and hugging his chest. He heard a strange clicking sound; that dolphin sound again. Something touched his exposed back once more, warm against his spine, and leathery, then it was gone. The cold of the rocky floor numbed some of the pain, and he was able to uncurl himself as the haze lifted. He raised his head to meet the blinking, glowing gaze of the creature now looming over him, still cocking its head. It lifted its paw, reaching out. John flinched and watched the curved claws nervously.

The creature seemed to take notice, and drew its arm back. It began trilling and clicking, then reached out to the side, picking up John's vest with one claw and studying it with child-like wonder. It brought the vest over to John, and set it down at his feet.

The fear that had held John's mind in a death grip was now ebbing away. If this creature intended harm then it should have done so by now, and there was nothing animal about its curiosity as it picked up John's jacket and looked it over as though it were the most amazing thing in the world.

After it had set Sheppard's clothes within reach, it picked up the bandage, only to toss it aside. It squeaked, then bounded over to one of the many skins scattered about the floor, only to return with another strip of the same stuff in its claws. It dropped it at Sheppard's feet, and nudged it closer to him.

John looked from the bandage to the creature. He slowly reached out and snatched the tanned skin. Without taking his eyes from the beast, he pushed himself up into sitting, and tried – once again – to tie the skin around his chest. Again he failed, wincing and cursing.

The creature squeaked and took the bandage from John's hands between two claws. It began to trill and click continuously as though chattering aimlessly away. It reached out with both paws, and John tensed as the thing wrapped the bandage around him, gasping whenever a rib was twinged. The creature paused every time he winced, pulling away, then resuming when John's face visibly relaxed. Soon, the creature had the bandage wrapped and was tying it off delicately using the tips of its claws. John looked up at the creature in amazement, and the creature smiled at him; actually smiled.

John shivered, remembering the cold. He placed his torn shirt back on, then his tattered jacket and finally his ripped vest. The creature made a high-pitched squeal as though realizing something. John smiled nervously and nodded.

" Yeah, clothes," he then looked at the creatures 'jewelery'. " I think you get clothes."

The creature cocked its head about again, trilling. In the cave, echoing off the walls, the sound was almost pleasant - musical.

Suddenly, the creature snapped its head around, lifting its ears some as it caught a noise. Soon, John was able to hear the scrape and clatter of more claws, and the biggest beast John had ever seen came up over the rise. It was like the smaller beast, but without horns and with a shorter mane. It was as big as a brontosaurus, and made the ground vibrate with each step. John's heart started up another rib-shattering pound, and he shrank back, trembling. This thing could crush him like a bug if it stepped on him.

The little creature bounded up to the larger, clicking, squealing, and trilling excitedly. The bigger beast made similar sounds of its own, but much deeper and louder, like whale song.

The little creature pointed at John, and the bigger beast looked at him, then back at the smaller beast. The bigger beast nodded, then approached John, lowering its great head to study him with glowing eyes. John swallowed.

" Good furry dinosaur," he murmured through a tightening throat. The beast sniffed at him, then clicked, nodding. The various metal bits of its many necklaces clinked together. Like the smaller creature, the big one wore various bracelets, as well as some of the brown skins on its back like a cloak, stitched together with pieces of braided rope.

That's when it finally hit John. Had there been any humanoids on this world, they would have shown up by now. The beasts he was looking at – animals at first glance - were not some pet or creature of burden. These _were_ the natives.

SGSGSGSGSG

A/N: Not all intelligent alien life has to be biped and human in form. If you need help imagining the creatures, just think of something that's a cross between a dragon and a monkey (not ape, monkey).


	4. Good Little Biped

A/N: Okay, small warning here. This chapter is going to require a rather large amount of imagination.

Ch. 4

Good Little Biped

John stared at the creature, and the creature – lying prone with its head resting in the palms of its upturned claws – stared at John with bright-eyed, childish wonder.

_Am I really all that fascinating? _John thought sardonically. _Wow, I feel so special._

John took another bite of the tough meat the thing had brought. A whole leg of meat, actually, that was already showing signs of refusing to sit well in John's stomach. The meat was tough, dry, and hurt his jaw to chew. But at least it was cooked. These creatures were never going to stop amazing him.

John only managed a small tear in the massive leg of – whatever it was – and the little creature was picking off the rest every now and then, chewing as though the meat melted in its mouth. Which it probably did. There was no saying what chemical composition made up the thing's saliva.

After having brought the meat, the beast then had brought in what looked to be (when carried by the creature) a shallow cup of water. To John it was more like a wide, shallow barrel carved from a boulder. John found by dipping the meat in the water that it became less of a hassle to chew and didn't scrape his throat on the way down. The meat filled fast, sitting like a rock in Sheppard's gut, so after only two hand-sized pieces he couldn't eat anymore. Without taking his eyes from the beast he hauled himself painfully to his feet by gripping the edge of the 'cup'. But he had to tear his gaze away once standing to see what kind of bruises were obscuring his face.

No bruises, just a dry scabbing cut on his forehead, some dried blood on his face, and a beard. He turned his heavy-lidded gaze on the creature.

" You can wrap up the rest of me with no problem, but forget the worst possible wound a guy can get? What if I had a concussion?"

The creature perked and squeaked. John flinched. " Yeah, don't take that as a sign I want to play or anything. Just stay there, keep observing..."

He looked back at his reflection. He cupped some water into his hand and took a few drinks. Following that, he took more water and splashed it on his face. He scrubbed at the dry blood, careful to avoid the wound and risk reopening it. When he was done, he dried his face on the sleeve of his jacket and looked back at himself. Except for the gash and the beard, he looked relatively more like himself.

" I'd kill for a shave," he groaned. He hated beards. They just weren't him. He had realized this after attempting to consciously grow a beard, only to shave it off when someone had made the off-handed comment concerning him looking like a skinny, life-sized GI Joe doll. The old ones from the seventies, not the beardless youthful ones of today.

They also itched. He did have an option though. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his switch-blade, which elicited another excited chirp from the beast. John opened the knife, testing its edge with his thumb. It was still sharp, sharp enough to hopefully cut his bonds when critter-lad finally got bored and trotted off to do something else.

John had never really shaved with a knife before, but he'd seen other guys do it, and none of them had ended up slitting their own throats in the process. It would have been easier had he some soap to lather on his face, but he wasn't going to complain.

_In some countries and planets, people can't shave at all._

John splashed his face again, waited for the water to still, then grimaced slightly as he passed the cold metal down his face. The knife scraped loudly, but the facial hair fell away like tiny bits of ash. It wasn't exactly a close shave (though even with a standard issue razor he didn't always get a close shave) but at least he was starting to look less and less like a wiry 1970s GI Joe. It was when he got to his neck that he became nervous. He lifted his head, pulling the skin, and slowed his strokes.

_Is shaving really worth slicing your jugular? _And yet he continued all the same. Why stop now when he had yet to puncture a major artery?

Thankfully, it didn't take long. When he finished, he wiped the blade on the leg of his pants, then splashed his face again. Finally, he looked like himself – totally himself.

The creature trilled, and John looked at it.

" So, Junior, how do I look?" Junior seemed a fitting enough name. Better than 'it, 'monster', or 'critter'.

Junior lifted its head and clacked its jaws. John folded his knife and placed it back in his vest pocket. He really did feel much better. It was always funny how the simple things in life could have such big impacts.

Junior rose onto all fours, and reached out with a single claw toward Sheppard's face. John recoiled a step back with a slight cringe and a shudder. The thing may have had uncanny human mannerisms, but the claws were still sharp and wicked-looking.

Junior flattened his ears in what was either an action of hurt or apology, and withdrew its claw.

" Sorry, pal," John said. " But with claws like those, who needs knives?"

Junior arched what would have been an eyebrow if it had any eyebrows. It then trilled, squeaked, clicked, and took the meat into its mouth and the cup into one clawed hand. Then, in another new feat that astounded John, it rose onto its hind legs and scurried off like a velociraptor.

John didn't dwell on it for long. He pulled out his knife, and leaned his back against the wall to gently lower himself to the floor. He unfolded the blade and began trying to saw through the rope connecting him to the stake. The rope refused to even get nicked. It was like trying to saw through greased rubber using a butter knife.

John flipped his knife back into the handle and shoved it in his pocket with forceful exasperation.

" Of course this wasn't gonna be easy," he growled, then pulled out his radio ear piece and began looking it over. To the naked eye, there was nothing apparently wrong with it. It was still together, just dead silent. Even when out of radio range from the others, it had at least made those annoying, rushing static sounds. Now, it did nothing. He tapped it with his finger, shook it, then placed it in his ear.

" Hey, anyone there? Anyone hear me?"

He felt like an idiot trying for the fourth time that day, but at least trying gave him something to do and kept out the nagging voice of despair trying to pull him down. But with sawing through the ropes proving a bust, that despair was starting to get some good acoustics.

John sighed and slipped the radio pack into his pocket. He tilted his head back against the rough wall and closed his eyes, shivering when cold air leaked in through his collar to go tumbling down his chest.

_Patience, John. They have to have a way of cutting through this stuff._ _Watch, observe, wait for the right moment..._

In the meantime, he decided to find a way to distract himself. He opened his eyes, and turned his head about in search of the source for the surrounding light. Since there were no lamps or fires to be seen, John assumed it had to be emanating from the cave wall, like from a fungus. He shifted, turning so that his shoulder was resting against the rock, and began feeling along it. Veins of various colors created prismatic web works within the red stone, and it was difficult to tell mineral from plant – unless it was one of the minerals creating the light.

John cupped his hands around a tangled mass of veins and pressed his face in close. Sure enough, the space within his hands was lit up by two veins of crystal amber within the tangle.

" Wow," John breathed. Definitely no cease to his constant amazement.

There came the clack of claws, and John turned his head to see a beaked, big-eared head pop up over the rise like a gopher peeking from its hole. John's shoulder's sagged.

_Junior's back_.

The creature twitched its head to look at John, and suddenly bounded over to him like a cat strung out on nip. It was only when it was over the rise that John realized Junior was looking a lot smaller than originally. In fact, he looked to be more the size of a Clydesdale than an elephant.

_Because that ain't Junior, John._

" Crap," John uttered, and turned, pressing his back into the wall. Unlike Junior, this new critter-kid obviously had no compunctions about approaching a strange creature. John went rigid when the even smaller creature stop inches from John's face. Also unlike Junior, this one had no horns, and a short mane. It began sniffing John, then prodded him in the chest and sides with its claws.

" Ow! Stop that!" he snapped, pushing the claw away. Instead of reacting in rage or defense, the creature squealed, jumped a few times, grinned, and began pulling on John's arm with both claws... his broken arm.

As John was being dragged away from the wall, he screamed in pain. Then screamed even louder when the rope on his ankle went taut and the creature continued pulling. Alarmed, the little creature dropped John where he curled into himself, cradling his arm and gasping in an agonized breath. The small creature then proceeded into another round of poking as it squeaked and trilled. John, even mired in pain, managed to come up with a small interpretation of said noises.

" _Get up thing. What's the matter thing? You sleeping thing?"_

" Go away!" John shouted, but it only made the creature poke him more, aggravating his broken ribs.

A high-pitched wail caused the little beast to stop. John turned his head enough to see the smaller creature bristle and hiss, then run off when Junior came charging in, followed – more methodically – by momma beast. The smaller beast hid behind mom's legs, chattering incessantly. Junior crouched in front of John, chattering as well with flattened ears and a lowered brow. Junior was pissed.

" _What did you do?" _was John's personal interpretation.

" _Nothing," _or " _I was just looking," _or " _I didn't do anything!"_

Junior checked John over, and pulled its head back in alarm.

" _You hurt it."_ Junior looked back at mom. " _She (he) hurt it."_

" _Did not!"_

" _Did too!"_

Then mom bellowed, which made Sheppard wince.

" _Enough, you two!"_ She then snaked her head around to look at the smaller beast, and hummed something probably along the lines of, "_Go out and play."_

The smaller creature squealed, clapped its jaws twice at its sibling, then bounded off. The smaller beast had looked very much like the mother. It must be a female thing to not have horns, in which case Junior was a boy, and the smaller creature had been its annoying little sister.

Mom lumbered over to her son and his pet, lowering her head to look at the tiny, fragile biped that was the size of a hamster compared to her. She sat back on her haunches, then lifted the claw of her small finger and gently slipped it beneath John. Just as gently, she lifted him up into a sitting position. After that, she brought her face in close, so close that her warm breath washed over him, and strangely enough it didn't smell all that bad. Mostly sweet, like grass.

She opened her maw, and John shrank back.

" Hey, what? What're you doing?" He started shivering, and if his heart pounded any harder it was going to break another rib.

Momma beast let loose a high-pitched shrill, so high that Sheppard barely even heard it. It was almost like the whine of a machine when it was being charge or had been switched on. After a few seconds of this, she stopped, and slipped her claw away from John's back. He remained sitting, and stared up at Momma Beast with the same cock-eyed look Junior had given him when Sheppard had spoken to him.

" What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself. Momma Beast clicked something to her son, who nodded in return. She then handed him something, something that made John's heart somersault into his intestines.

It was more braided rope, longer than the rope he was attached to. Junior untangled the rope and lifted it by one end, which was attached to a braided loop.

" Ooohhh crap," John breathed, going stiff enough to snap in half. Junior went over to John, moving slowly. John held still. Like he was going to try anything with monolithic Momma Beast hovering over him.

Junior took the loop, untied it, then slowly placed it around John's neck. John slumped.

" Damn-it," he growled. When the beast finished, it pulled the loop up, testing to see if it could slip off John's head. Momma Beast clicked something.

" _Careful, dear. Don't break it's neck."_

With that thought, John tensed again, and had the uncanny sensation of his neck being as brittle as a dried twig. That might have explained why they hadn't bandaged his head. Careful as Junior was being, kids weren't always so delicate, and it wouldn't have taken much for Junior to snap John's neck. Turning his head too far, twitching suddenly while holding his head in place... John shivered.

With the 'leash' in place – not too tight or loose – around John's neck, Junior then lowered his head and took the edge of the ankle bracelet into one side of his jaw. He gnawed and licked it for a moment until it fell away.

_Well, now I know how they do it. McKay would have loved seeing this_. Apparently the creatures really did have some kind of chemically enhanced saliva that could do anything.

_Liquid Swiss army knife. _

Junior tugged on the rope, and John' jerked forward.

" Ow! Damn it! Give me a moment."

Momma Beast lowered her head, clicking something, and Junior flattened his ears sheepishly.

" _Don't do that, you'll hurt the little biped."_

" _Oops."_

Junior tugged more gently and trilled.

" _Good little biped. Time for walkies."_

John glared at Junior. " You're lucky I already know better than to bite you." He then pushed himself to his feet, only to waver when everything spun. Momma Beast watched with an apparent expression of worry written all over her reptilian face. She clicked and trilled.

" _Maybe this isn't a good idea. It's still hurt."_

Junior trilled back.

" _It's cool, mom."_ Or something like that. The trill sounded longer than just three words.

Junior began moving, glancing behind him to make sure John was following. John trudged after his 'owner', his arm held delicately to his chest like a piece of fine china. He brooded over the fact that he was something so frail in the presence of these creatures, and he couldn't help the pity he felt for all the mice he had witnessed being overtaken by his mom's cat when he was a kid. Good thing he was more like a dog to these massive beasts. Dogs always got better treatment than pet rodents.

_Plus no spending the rest of my life running in a giant hamster wheel._

But spending the rest of his life on a leash was just as unpleasant, mostly out of humiliation.

_Glad McKay isn't here. He'd never let me live it down._

At the thought of McKay, then Teyla, Ford, Weir, and even Beckett, John was hit by a sudden surge of homesickness. All the normal questions popped into his head; Were they okay? Were they looking for him? Had they given up? He didn't know how long he'd been tethered to that pole, but seeing as how he had awoken to an almost fully grown beard, it had to have been for a while.

John's blood ran cold. _They probably think I'm dead._ He didn't blame them for it, though. He was still a little dazed about being alive himself. He had yet to ascertain if being dead was preferable to being on a leash.

Momma Beast and Junior headed down the incline, and Sheppard followed. The incline, however, was a lot steeper than he had first thought, and he was forced to sit and slide down the glassy red surface with its webbing of multi-colored crystals. They exited the cave, only to enter another cave, one so massive it actually dwarfed Momma-Beast to elephant size and made caves like Carlsbad seem like a pothole. There was a massive fire roaring in a bowl carved into the floor by claws. Yellow branches were tied together forming frames where skins hung, and cups shaped from rock were piled against the wall that curved upward into the hazy ceiling.

Skins were scattered everywhere near the massive blaze, but not too near to catch on fire from a stray cinder. John sighed in relief when the heat from the fire warmed his clothes, then his skin, driving out the moist chill that had clung to his bones like fungus.

Junior's little sister, plus another male, slightly bigger than Junior, and another female of the same size, were darting about the fire, chasing a ball. They stopped on sighting their sibling and his new pet. The bigger female held back, but little sister and big brother moved forward to check John out. Junior beamed and trilled.

" _Isn't it cool? Mom said I could keep it."_

Big brother lowered his head toward John. John went statue still except for the slight tremors that twitched his body. Big brother snorted loudly, and the rush of air forced John back a few steps. Junior responded with a guttural growl and a hiss.

" _Don't do that! You're scaring it."_

Big brother hissed back. " _Whatever."_ Then trotted away. Big sister still wouldn't go near John, and kept squeaking nervously.

" _Eeeww, what is it? Keep it away from me."_

Junior snorted, moving off to the right. John felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet, but on looking back found Momma Beast curled up by the fire. When John looked forward, he stumbled in shock.

One of the adult beasts was heading toward them, this one several inches bigger than momma-beast, with massive horns that curled back and a thick mane that whispered every time the creature moved.

_John, meet daddy._

Poppa Beast stopped in front of his small son and lowered his great head to regard both child and said child's pet. Junior chattered, clicked, and trilled excitedly.

" _Look what I found dad, it was just lying in the sand all broken and bleeding but I brought it back and fixed it and now it's getting better and mom said I could keep it. Can I keep it dad, can I, huh, huh? It's small and doesn't eat much and it's smart and does tricks and hasn't bitten anyone..."_ At least something along those lines.

Poppa Beast looked from his son to John. John couldn't help another small cringe in the presence of this massive male. Swallowing, he raised his hand in a small, pathetic wave.

" Um, hi... Mr... um... Junior's dad. Please don't step on me."

Poppa Beast looked back and Junior, clicked, then stepped over son and pet, heading to the fire. Junior trilled, leaping up and down excitedly. John let out a shuddering breath of relief.

They continued on, cresting a small slope that should have been an easy climb but was sapping what little strength John had. It didn't take them long to reach the top, and when they did, the breath caught in Sheppard's throat.

The cavern that made the creature's home was a hole in comparison to what he was seeing; an entire underground world, plus civilization. John could see no wall, no ceiling, just miles and miles of great rocky pillars that vanished into yellow-tinted clouds high above, pillars that supported the hidden ceiling. The cavern John stood in was several meters above the ground in the rock face, and below stretched a forest of massive yellow trees with – to John's further surprise – green foliage. They were a lot like oak trees – big, mutant oak trees. And moving among the trees were more of Junior's kind in all sizes, decked out in jewels and skins, going about their daily lives. Some were pulling down a few trees and dragging them back to the wall pockmarked with hundreds of cavern entrances. Others were scurrying up and down the sheer wall like monkeys bounding from branch to branch. John saw a group of females tearing the hide off of some brown beast that resembled an elephant with a stubby trunk, tiny ears, and four tusks; one pair going up, the others curving down. Once the skin was off, they began tearing it into sections with each female taking a section back to her dwelling. Various birds – with the smallest as far as John could tell being the size of a St. Bernard - skimmed close to the misty, swirling cloud cover.

John's heart did yet another acrobatic plunge, and his stomach churned.

" I have literally journied to the center of the earth. Crap." _But still kind of cool._

Junior chattered, squeaked, trilled, and pointed down into the subterranean valley. John widened his eyes at Junior. He shook his head as he slowly tried to back away.

" Oh no. Don't even take me down there. I'm a freakin' bug to your people. You'll be scraping me off someone's foot..."

Junior clicked. " _Aw, isn't that cute, he's talking to me."_ Then he scooped John up with one claw, holding him in his cupped palm, and began bounding down the wall by puncturing his claws into the rock and swinging, sliding, and dropping down. John had his good arm wrapped around Junior's wrist tight, but being the die-hard fly boy that he was felt a surge of adrenaline pumping exhilaration at the strange form of flight rather than absolute terror. The only small twinge of fear came from the possibility of Junior dropping him before hitting bottom.

Then they reached bottom, and Junior set John down. The exhilaration was yanked from Sheppard the moment his feet touched the rocky floor and he looked up. Junior's kind was everywhere, lumbering dinosaur people that made the ground constantly shudder with their steps. Junior took up John's leash and tugged gently to urge John on. John had no choice but to walk fast and keep up with his 'owner' or get stepped on by the adults who didn't seem to be paying much attention to where their feet landed. The kids weren't any better the way they ran, leaped, swung from the trees, and wrestled in every conceivable direction. A few darted up to Junior and a cacophony of dolphin chatter started up. Junior tugged on John's leash to pull him forward, and his friends squeaked in delight.

John glared at them, stepping back when one tried to touch him. That one, a male, shrieked and tried to pull the leash out of Junior's claws. In turn, John was yanked forward and fell onto his chest. Pain exploded through his body and he cried out. Junior hissed in alarm and shoved the other male away. So the other male shoved Junior roughly, knocking him to the ground. The rest of the dino-kids followed it up with guttural clicking sounds that could only be laughter, then ran off.

John looked over at Junior quizzically. " Why didn't you fight back?"

Junior just stared at him, sag-eared and piteous; a subdued little child. He pushed himself to all fours, then picked up the leash and trudged on with feet dragging.

John didn't need to speak creature to know the situation. Junior had hoped to win a few friends with his new pet, then the novelty of a strange creature wore off faster than Junior could blink because one of the brats had hurt that pet.

Junior had lost his chance of gaining a few buddies by protecting John.

John had to admit, that was pretty good loyalty. Not to mention proof that he had nothing to fear from Junior. Junior's lack of popularity, on the other hand, was good reason to be concerned. Nothing like tormenting the small kid by tormenting his favorite pet.

" I am sooo dead."

SGSGSGSG

A/N: I rather enjoyed writing this chapter:) More Shep pulverization to come, I promise. Also, I kind of hurried with this chapter, so if there are any mistakes or things I didn't mention – I'll fix them later.


	5. On the Road Again

Ch. 5

On the Road Again

It felt good to be warm. Sheppard sat several feet from the massive bonfire with his legs pulled up and his arm draped casually over one knee, his hand hanging limply. His other arm rested in his lap, twitching involuntarily at the slightest movement of his body. He really needed to invest such quiet times in sifting through the scattered skin-scraps for something to use as a sling. At the moment, however, his attention was entirely on Junior. The dino-kid was lying cat-like doodling in the rocky floor using a single claw. That claw cut through that rock as though it were clay.

Momma-Beast sidled over to her son and clicked something – comforting words, obviously. Maybe about making friends, maybe about not being bullied forever. Junior clicked something in return.

" _Whatever_."

Momma-Beast's mouth set in a straight line. She lumbered back over to the huge stone cup with the wood handle, and lifted it to move it back over the fire. John couldn't see what was in it, but he could smell it – like rotting asparagus. He hated asparagus.

John looked back at the kid who continued to doodle. The kid really knew how to brood. John couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Up until now, his opinion of the beast had centered around mistrust, which was a natural inclination seeing as how Junior was a rambunctious kid with the ability to crush every bone in Sheppard's body, or lay him open like a gutted fish. That inclination was gradually dissipating, allowing room for other opinions to form. The kid wasn't bad, and John had to admit that out of all the little dino-rugrats scurrying about, he was glad it had been Junior who had found him.

Junior really was trying to take good care of John.

So with a positive view of Junior in place, John was able to feel pity for him, rather than annoyance at being tied to a leash.

John also had the feeling that Junior was a very sensitive kid. Were Junior human, John would have guessed his age to have been around eight or nine, maybe even ten. Young, innocent, but a little better aware of the world and what went on in it. John only vaguely recalled himself at that age, but he more clearly remembered two friends of his who had both been at opposite ends of the spectrum from eachother. Dean had been what one might call a typical boy – energetic and all over the place. Seth, in John's opinion, had always seemed a little more mature, more sensitive like Junior. John assumed himself to be somewhere in between.

The awareness of the two boy's differences came about when they had stumbled on a wounded bird one day after coming home from school. Dean had wanted to toss the bird to a dog or cat to see what would happen. Seth had wanted to bring the bird home and fix it. John knew the bird was going to die since its chest had been split open by something, and opted for putting it out of its misery. Seth agreed, and John had twisted its neck, which had almost made him puke. Dean had volunteered to do it but his method would have involved crushing the bird with a big rock, and that just hadn't sat right. Seth then buried the bird.

John nodded to himself. Junior was like Seth. Any other kid would have used John's body as a toy, thinking him dead, but not Junior. Junior had gone through the trouble of saving him even though there might have been a chance John was beyond saving. The kid had heart, another reason to be thankful that this particular critter had stumbled upon him.

John rose painfully to his feet, and approached his 'owner'. He stood two feet from Junior's head, and waited until the young creature finally took notice of him. Junior lifted his horned, furry cranium and twisted it around to look at John forlornly.

John gave him a wan, sympathetic smile. " It's tough making friends, isn't it? Hell, McKay keeps griping about how I keep making all the new friends and I still think it's hard. Of course – not hard like what you're going through. I'm mean, that's gotta be rough not having anyone to play with..."

Junior looked away, returning to his doodling. John couldn't help feeling a little affronted, though he knew good and well that to Junior all John's rambling was nothing more than inane chatter, and probably thought Sheppard was begging for food or something along those lines.

Still, John's pity remained intact. He took a step forward, and reached out a slightly unsteady hand until it made contact with the warm, leathery scales of Junior's jaw. Junior's head turned, and John snatched his hand back.

" Whoa! Invasion of space, right, sorry."

Junior just cocked his head and blinked. Then, slowly, a small smile spread on the creature's face.

Bit by bit, the tension in John's muscles eased. " Yeah, there we go. Feeling a lot better, right? Glad to break in a little sunshine there."

The creature trilled.

Momma Beast came around the fire and set a cup in front of Junior. She had the 'pot' in her other claw, and poured some of the contents - some kind of neon-yellow seaweed – into the cup. Junior used his claw to scoop up a bunch of the putrid smelling plant and drop it into his mouth. Momma Beast continued around the fire and bellowed out a call. Big brother, Big sister, and Little sister came charging out of the various tunnels of the cavern home, snatching cups and holding them up for Mom to scoop out more veggie-slop. Poppa Beast entered a few minutes after the kids and took up the biggest of the cups.

_All that's missing is Goldilocks,_ though there were far too many 'bears' for that analogy.

Junior pulled out some of the sea-weed/grass or whatever it was and set it on the ground in front of Sheppard. His portion was too big to finish even half of, and from the smell alone he doubted he would be able to make a dent in it. But he was hungry, hungry enough for yellow, asparagus-smelling sea-weed. He touched the stuff, which was warm, and exceedingly slimy. Pulling a piece of the stuff off was harder than separating slices of extra cheese pizza. At the moment, he would have sold his soul for a slice of pizza.

Once he was able to break the strings of slime trying to hold the plant together, he looked it over with a churning gut and a small grimace.

" Well, two choices John. Don't eat and starve. Eat it now and puke later." He supposed he could take his chances. He held his breath, opened his mouth, and popped the stuff inside. He then swallowed without chewing and was surprised to discover that the plant had no taste whatsoever, which was preferable enough for John. However, the sensation of it sliding down his throat reminded him too much of swallowing a slug. Not that he knew what swallowing a slug was like, but he was pretty sure this was close.

The dino-folk finished their sea-weed off within minutes. With their cups empty, Momma went around with what looked to be a basket woven with branches and covered at the bottom with skins. She stopped in front of Junior and took handfuls of shredded meat from the basket to put in his cup, then continued on to the rest of the family. Junior set bits of meat on the floor, and John gladly ripped off a few bites. Chewing it, however, was even more tricky than it had been the first time. It was like eating beef jerky, only beef jerky eventually gave way to his saliva and teeth. This stuff refused to break down, and he was forced to swallow it whole, and shivered as it scraped his throat.

As far as his stomach was concerned, he was done, but he forced himself to swallow another small piece of the plant.

SGSGSGSGSG

Night and day didn't really exist underground, but for the creatures that didn't matter. After dinner and Poppa Beast trilling and bellowing something that could only have been a story, the kids headed off to their respective cave-rooms. Junior carried John up the incline to his own den, and set him on one of the skins, but kept the leash tied around his wrist. The kid curled up on a pile of skins after clicking something to John, then fell immediately to sleep.

John wasn't so lucky. His injuries and the stress of being around giant creatures had worn him out to the point that he was desperate for sleep, but certain organs – namely his stomach – refused to let him. The discomfort had begun sometime during the story, but John had chalked it up to indigestion, until that discomfort began to escalate. He curled up on the skin Junior had set him on and clutched his cramping stomach that was making loud, unsettling noises. The pain in his gut was increasing fast, as though something were trying to eat its way out of him. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, and soaked his clothes. He writhed while remaining curled, and soon the pain reached the crescendo where he could not longer hold back his whimpers and groans of agony.

" S-s-s-stop. P-please stop," he begged his gut. He gasped out, sucked in a breath, and held it. He heard, from a distance, a frantic trilling. Something touched his shoulder, nudging him, trying to get him to roll onto his back, but movement made John's head spin even with his eyes closed. He felt as though the floor had dropped away, and he was tumbling into infinity, falling into another endless chasm.

Searing liquid shot into his throat. He rolled onto his stomach, and pushed himself up with one arm just as the bile reached his mouth. Everything he had managed to down poured from him in one single heave, splashing onto the skin. When he stopped, he sucked in a long, ragged breath, then heaved again.

Junior squeaked in alarm.

When John's stomach emptied, the pain vanished, and he dropped, rolling onto his back panting and coughing. He opened his eyes to meet the wide, luminescent gaze of Junior, shrilling out his alarm.

" I'm okay, pal," John breathed out, and pat Junior's beaked snout. " I'm okay." And he knew that he was. He turned his head to look at the puddle of stomach content and undigested sea-weed and meat. He didn't need Beckett present to tell him that the pain was the result of something he had eaten, and considering that the last pieces of meat he'd ingested hadn't left him rolling in agony, that only left the iridescent plant.

John didn't have super saliva, and he was pretty certain the digestive juices of the creature's was just as powerful. Their food – most of their food – could not be his food. Even the meat was questionable.

John's eyelids slid closed. " I'm going to die here." Unless, of course, he could find something a little more palatable.

He felt something slide beneath his back, and opened his eyes to find himself being lifted into sitting position. Junior then reached out and pulled a shallow cup toward the skin, tilting toward John just enough for him to reach in and cup some water into his hand. He sucked the water up, rinsed, spit, then took water to drink.

" Thanks kid," he breathed in relief. " That hit the spot."

Junior pushed the cup away while carefully lowering John back onto the skin. Once the claw slid away from his back, he felt his eyelids slide close against his will. Puking had been the last straw for him energy-wise.

" You're a good owner, kid," John murmured. " Good owner..." He was asleep the moment his head touched the skin.

SGSGSGSGSG

John was falling, and falling, and falling, forever into the void. He didn't have the breath to scream.

Sheppard awoke with a gasp and a hammering heart, lifting his head and groping for something to grab. Except that he didn't have to when he felt the solid ground and soft leather beneath his fingers. He blinked to clear his eyes, and reality came flooding back into his awareness.

John pushed himself up onto his elbow, but his body felt too stiff to move any further. He glanced around with heavy-lidded eyes, and scrunched his brow at seeing Junior bounding about the cave, gathering items into skins, then bundling them up to drag them down the incline. He returned only seconds later to do it again.

John forced his body to rise the extra few inches so that he was sitting up. He rubbed the side of his face, and watched as Junior cleared the cave of his belongings.

" Now what?" he mumbled. He was tempted to drop back onto his own bedding and return to mental oblivion, despite the falling sensation that would probably follow. Junior, however, cleared the cave quickly, and soon returned for him. He took up the leash and gave it a gentle tug, chirping excitedly and grinning bight-eyed like the child that he was.

John winced at the noise. His head was pounding as though stuffed with numerous mini jack-hammers.

" All right, all right, I'm coming." He was slow about getting up, so Junior trotted over to him and slipped a claw gingerly behind his back. John shivered at the feel of it against his (to his chagrin) _delicate spine. _But he put his hand on the claw and let it support him as he rose onto his feet. He wavered for a moment until he locked his knees, then shook his head to clear it. The jack-hammers started up again.

" Son of a...!" he growled, massaging his eyes with one hand. Adding to his growing misery was the gnawing of his empty stomach.

Junior gave the leash another slight tug, so John stumbled after. Inside the main cavern Junior's family was busy gathering items into skins, tyeing them up then gathering them onto a sledge formed from branches weaved intricately together. The massive blaze was now nothing more than a pit of smoldering charcoal and ashes.

John arched an eyebrow. _Moving Day?_

Once the sledge was loaded, Poppa Beast tied the ropes connected to the front of the sledge around his neck, and Momma did the same with the ropes at the back. They then headed from the cave, and slipped over the edge to go sliding down the wall carrying the sledge between them. The kids followed after with Junior picking up John like before. Once again came the thrilling rush of flight as Junior scaled the wall like a literal spider monkey. Once on the ground, Junior lowered John and let him slide off his arm.

The place was packed with dino-folk. The majority of adults carried sledges between couples, with a few standing on the outskirts of the gathered, carrying long metal objects that resembled giant machetes. It reminded John of the Bedouin tribes of the Middle East, or a caravan of reptile gypsies, or...

John blinked when realization suddenly struck. _Migration_. It wasn't moving day, it was migration day.

Junior wound the leash around his wrist to keep John close. He then handed John a small chunk of dried meat held between the tips of two claws. John took it and began gnawing on it voraciously, chewing against the ache in his jaw. He glanced around nervously, especially at the dino-kids that were hovering nearby, staring at him curiously. John moved a little closer to Junior.

A trumpeting bellow vibrated the air, and John cringed when the sound drilled into his ears. The moment the call died, the massive caravan began to move. John had to walk fast to keep up with Junior's wide stride, all while concentrating on chewing the meat without choking. He kept his eyes on the ground to avoid seeing the massive feet pounding around him, but couldn't ignore the way the ground vibrated like the onset of an earthquake.

In a situation like this, it sucked to be small.

SGSGSGSGSG

A/N: I apologize if the song _On the Road Again _becomes stuck in your head. It's forever getting stuck in mine whenever we go on a trip, and I'm not really that fond of the song. Much more misery ahead for poor Shep. Can't have a migration without a little misery – and danger. Stay tuned loyal readers!


	6. Mind Your Heads

A/N: For all of you who've been wanting to know what's been going down in Atlantis, this chapter's for you. And no, this is not some kind of McKay/Teyla pairing deal so don't even go there.

Ch. 6

Mind Your Heads

McKay already knew that tiny, microscopic insects resided on human skin. Not lice or dirt-wallowing vermin, but bugs way too small to see, feel, and therefore become creeped out by. But he assumed that's what he was feeling now; millions of microscopic bugs racing all over his skin, digging under the flesh to scurry about the nerve endings, giving physical form to his agitation.

Teyla had become a permanent fixture in his lab. Every time he walked in, there she was sitting serenely in a chair or perched placidly on a stool as though she were in an artist studio waiting to be sculpted. Of course, McKay always just _assumed_ she was sitting placidly, despite observing her tense posture whenever he brushed by her. He knew why she waited day and day out, saying nothing, acting like the statue rather than the model.

She wanted to talk. Always an open soul, that Teyla. Being the leader and warrior-type wasn't enough for her. Now she wanted to try her hand at psychiatry. McKay, however, was not so open, and adamantly refused to give into emotional bonding opportunities. They weren't his style and he didn't see the necessity for it.

Teyla couldn't take the hint. McKay didn't deny she was a clever woman, but his own mind was far more vast. The only thing she was succeeding at was getting on his nerves and driving all the little flesh-bugs crazy. Today the bugs were at their worst.

McKay had gathered a nice collection of rocks from the red/yellow planet he had christened _Death's Backyard_. It had taken massive amounts of cajoling to convince Weir to allow a small team to go back – as long as they swore on various relatives' graves to stay away from the chasm. It wasn't exactly a hard promise to follow up on. Its moaning, pessimistic howl had been enough to nearly drive Rodney back through the gate. The only thing that had kept his feet firmly planet on the ground was, in fact, the ground. No way was a dusty, dead planet going to stop him from discovering its nasty little secrets, like why electronics failed after a certain depth was reached.

_And why we couldn't do something so stupidly simple as rescue the Major. Because all alien planets are freaks!_

McKay glared through his microscope at the crumbs of rocks that glittered with flecks of metal and crystal. Same old stuff, just like the last ten rocks he'd smashed with a hammer, picked apart, scanned, digitally dissected to discover the vast majority of components to be unknown, and now stared at through a microscope.

The answers he wanted refused to be found. He had one rock, a pebble, containing the chemical, metal, or whatever it was that killed everything mechanical, and for the same reason couldn't study it the way he needed to. Scans fizzed out, microscopes blinked off, and everything else wavered on the verge of electrically fainting if the rock came as close as seven feet. He had to move the rock to one end of the lab just to use the other end. The only thing special about the rock was a thin sliver of yellow metal – like gold but much darker. The rest of the rocks didn't even have a fleck of gold-like substance.

_Advanced civilization my A--. Can't even handle a tiny little pebble._

" Why do you keep searching?"

The bugs were running a mass marathon on his nerve-endings now. " Because I'm obsessive-compulsive." Rodney didn't have to see to know that Teyla was looking at him oddly. He huffed, and lifted his eyes from the scope. " Because I'm a scientist and that's what scientists do."

When he received no reply, he glanced over his shoulder at the perfectly stoic Teyla. He had his mouth open for another bout of back-biting, only to clap his jaw shut when the reality of the situation struck home. He'd actually forgotten who he was talking to, and that no return caustic reply was forthcoming. This was Teyla he was addressing, a being of comfort words, not sarcastic commentating.

Rodney quickly looked away back to the microscope. " Sorry," he mumbled.

" No need to apologize," Teyla replied, and McKay cringed slightly, both out of abashment and irritation.

" You didn't answer my question," she said next. Rodney stiffened.

" Yes I did. Listen, Teyla, I don't mind you hanging around," _Yeah right, _" but could you do so quietly? I'm trying to think."

" You didn't answer my question, Dr. McKay. I asked why you keep searching, because you have already found what you are looking for. That strange rock. But you can't study it. So why do you study the rest of these rocks? What are you hoping to find?"

McKay shrugged. " Oh, I don't know. Whatever there is to find. That's why I'm a scientist, a scientist studies things even after finding a crap-load of answers or a crap-load of nothing. It's just what we do. Why all the questions?"

" I only asked one."

The bug marathon was turning into a stampeded. McKay placed his hand on the metal table-top and locked his elbows to support his weight. " Teyla, if this is some weird mind game your people like to play to get other people to talk, you might as well quit while you're ahead. I have nothing to talk about. Why does everyone keep wanting me to talk about stuff when there's nothing to talk about? I don't like it when people try to get me to talk!"

Get _you to talk? I always thought it was the opposite._ It was a very Sheppard reply. Too bad it hadn't come from his mouth. McKay had the perfect retort.

Rodney dropped his head to let it hang limply from his neck.

_Crap, he's haunting my brain._

" I'm not trying to get you to do anything. I just wanted to know what it was you hoped to find," Teyla said.

Rodney sighed. " Good question."

They both fell silent for the space of a minute. In that time, Rodney tried to return his attention to the microscope and what it showed him. The problem was a part of himself – a very large part of himself – didn't want his face planted back onto that scope. It was all just a load of redundancy on the other end, and he was sick of looking at it. He'd been doing nothing day after day except study those rocks, creating a routine that wasn't taking him anywhere, just keeping him busy. And anyone who'd tried to pull him away from his 'task' he would dismiss with the mantra of " I think I've got something here" or " not now, this is really fascinating stuff."

McKay looked down at the microscope in annoyance. _They're a bunch of stupid rocks!_

" Hey," he said, shattering the silence. " Let me ask you a question. Is the reason you keep hanging out with me because you suddenly find me fascinating..." _about time, " _or because - you know - you miss Sheppard and... I don't know, don't feel like being alone?"

He looked back over his shoulder at Teyla. Her eyes had shifted to the varied Ancient devices gathered on the table beside her, but her gaze was distant, unfocused.

" I don't know. Lately I have been feeling... restless. Not in the sense that I wish to keep moving about, but in the sense that I feel unable to find a comfortable way to feel. I wish to return to my people, yet I do not want to leave Atlantis. I wish to speak of what happened to Major Sheppard, but cannot when the opportunity presents itself. I wish to speak of Sheppard himself, but am unsure of who to speak to, though I do not know why."

McKay turned, folding his arms and leaning the small of his back against the table.

Teyla continued. " I do not feel so overwhelmed by these conflicting desires when I am with you, or Ford. Ford I can speak to, but with you I do not have to speak. It is as though with you, nothing needs to be said because it is already known."

McKay, for once in his life, was speechless, utterly speechless, and could only blink rapidly in surprise.

" R-really?" he said after a moment. " So, you're really not here to get me to talk?"

Teyla shrugged. " Only if you wish to talk. Silence has its merits as well."

" Um... Okay..." He turned back to the scope, but still didn't have the heart to look through the eye-piece.

_What _am _I looking for?_ The question irked him. It was the beginning of acceptance to the fact that the only reason he kept looking was for the sake of having something to look for. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to understand, even though there was nothing left to find. He wanted to know why, even living in the dead-center of a vastly superior, technological city, they didn't have the means to save Major Sheppard. He'd fallen down a big hole – big deal – and with a mountain of resources at their fingertips they still couldn't get him out of that damn hole.

_A freakin' hole killed him. A hole in the ground! _

" It's not fair, you know," he said suddenly, turning back to face Teyla. " Oh no, not what you're probably thinking, that a damn alien pit took him out even after he survived everything else. It's not fair that there was a chance he was still alive, and in the time it took us to ready everything to get him out, that... _monster_ or whatever it was sidled up and slurped him down. You know what that means? It means he died alone. While we were all valiantly organizing a rescue, taking our sweet time, he was left alone in a pit on some crap-hole planet... Dieing alone. And you know what the real kicker is? It probably wouldn't have happened if I'd just listened to him about it being a big 'ole waste of time. Because it was a big 'ole waste of time. He died for nothing. He wasn't even protecting anyone, he just stepped on the wrong spot at the wrong time, and whatever ate him has now – long ago – finished digesting him. He's a pile bones, at the bottom of a pit, on a forsaken world whose name is a number on a list of worlds recommended by the Ancients _not_ to visit. He's gone, and I'm the reason why."

McKay whirled back around, fidgeting with the microscope though he wasn't going to look into it any time soon.

" You are right, Rodney."

McKay's hand paused in adjusting the scope's eyepiece.

" It was not fair that he had been alone. But you should not blame yourself. By logic, we are all to blame. We did not move fast enough, reach far enough, or react in time to stop what happened. But we did try to save him. Even after Lt. Ford told us of what he had found, you continued to hope, and to search, finding a way to take the jumper into the hole. You should not hate yourself, you have no reason to. What happened was beyond our control. Warriors fall, but not always by a weapon."

McKay snorted out a derisive chuckle. " Still doesn't make it fair."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. " No, it does not. But we tried. Never forget that we tried."

McKay dropped his head. " You know, I really do miss him. Even his big mouth."

He looked at Teyla and she gave him a wan smile. " You are not alone in that."

SGSGSGSGSG

" _Hiiiighway to Hell!_ Everybody sing! Does that mean anything to you critters? Highway to Hell? Huh? No? You sure? Kind of feels like we're on that Highway right now, if you know what I mean."

As expected, no one was paying attention to him, except Big brother who kept flashing Sheppard withering looks. Apparently, kid brother's pet's constant chatter was getting on his nerves. John couldn't have cared less. At the moment, talking out loud was the only thing spurning his legs on, though he couldn't explain the connection the two had. Long treks over semi-rough terrain should not have been a problem for him. He'd handled worse, much worse. This journey should have been more along the lines of a leisurely hike through the woods, not a death march.

His body, however, was not agreeing with his brain. His head spun, his lungs burned, and his legs seemed to be forming a thick layer of led around the bones. And adding injury to fatigue, a sharp stabbing pain was gradually increasing in his ribs, forcing him to take shallower breaths. It also didn't help that he had to move fast to keep up with Junior.

The problem had to be hunger. The tough meat was slow to break down, and for the most part seemed to be more of a filler than a purveyor of life-sustaining nutrients. He wasn't just hungry, he was literally starved.

The Dino-folk had yet to take a break. They kept along the rock-wall pockmarked with caves, then entered a massive wooded valley when the wall ended. With the rock wall now far behind them, and the ceiling hidden by clouds, it no longer felt as though they were underground.

Birds the size of turkeys took off from the trees when the dino-people trundled by, sending massive leaves fluttering down around them. Animals calls echoed through the woods to be answered by other animal calls, and though Sheppard was surrounded by so many he couldn't help feeling a little like Red Riding Hood trying to survive the trip to grandma's house. Of course, Red Riding Hood hadn't been tethered to a monster that could take down the wolf in a single bite. So he was a little mixed on whether he should be nervous or at ease with his surroundings.

Allying itself with his hunger was the onslaught of thirst and a dry, burning throat. He had ignored any inklings of thirst up until now, when he was unable to swallow. These creatures seemed oblivious to the concept of 'rest stops'. Of course they probably didn't need rest stops, not with long limbs like theirs' that could cover a mile within minutes.

John tried taking up another verse of _Highway to Hell_, but could only manage a fitful cough. His throat was way too dry for any more singing. His legs were starting to give out as well, and his hammering heart felt ready to follow soon after. He was having a hard time keeping up with Junior, so in turn the leash started going taunt, pulling against the back of his neck and adding more stumbles to his stumbling. He grabbed onto the leash and gripped it, holding on for dear life for the inevitable face-first plunge to the ground.

" Hey. Hey! Kid! Stop, please! You need to stop... or... slow down... or..." he was panting too fast for words to keep up. " Something!... Stop...!" he coughed, staggered, but caught himself before he went down. His surroundings began to spin wildly in a mesh of color and shapes.

" Please... stop!" he gasped, following up with even more vicious coughs.

Finally he fell onto his chest, and the pain of it helped a little bit of awareness to slip in, enough to keep him gripping the leash. He slid over rocks, fallen leaves, and dirt, being bumped, jostled, prodded, and scraped, igniting fiery torrents that ripped through his body. He tried to cry out but the dragging had moved him onto his back, and the collar was becoming tight as his hand became slick with sweat. Soon, he lost his grip on the leash all together. The collar cinched around his throat like a noose, squeezing his esophagus and trachea together, and he clawed at the leash trying to grip it.

Just as his lungs screamed for air and the world shadowed around the edges of his vision, he heard a high-pitched squeal and managed to catch sight of Little sister pulling at Junior's tail. Junior turned to snap at her only to stop moving all together on seeing John being dragged like a rag-doll across the ground. He shrieked.

John gasped in as much air as he could against the violent protest of his ribcage. He coughed, eliciting even more protests, and saw the blurred form of Junior's head peering down at him.

" Thank... you..." John rasped. Funny how it had been Little sister who had saved the day after nearly killing him on their first encounter.

Junior clicked, chirped, and trilled with a look of deep regret in his neon eyes. He scooped John up in the most gentle manner possible, looking him over. Then, to John's astonishment, he was placed on Junior's own back with the help of Little sister who was actually being careful for once. John gripped the soft fur of Junior's mane, and once Junior seemed satisfied that John wouldn't fall off, trotted back to his original place by his mom with Little sis following on his heels.

John let out the most relief-filled breath imaginable. He wasn't going to beat around the bush about it; something was seriously wrong with him. Emphasizing the point was the increase of a throbbing ache filling his head, replacing the dizziness blocked from his vision by closed eye-lids. With his chest pressed against Junior's broad, flat back, Sheppard could feel his own heart beating and lending rhythm to the throb in his suddenly tiny skull. It was making him just a little queasy.

But at least he didn't have to walk any more. Plus Junior's furry mane was radiating a comfortable amount of warmth that soaked into John and eased the tense chill from his sore muscles. That same mane also created a kind of cushion that made lying on a bruised and cracked chest tolerable.

John went limp as a rag. The methodical pace of Junior's gate was pleasantly lulling, so lulling that Sheppard was able to ignore his hunger and thirst enough to drift into lazy pondering.

_This is not what I signed up for. Wait, did I even sign up? Sort of, I guess. Well, not for this particular situation, or situations involving life-sucking ticks, hot-headed Genii, and alien vampires. What the hell was I thinking?_ _Exploration, adventure, the chance to leave everything behind and start over..._

Starting over; that sounded about right. Yes, being stationed in Antarctica had suited him just fine, had offered him a little anonymity, let him forget all the crap that followed disobeying a direct order to do the right thing. Well, that, and all the snow-boarding opportunities a man could ask for. The only thing he had missed about civilization was warm weather for T-shirt wearing and surfing.

Then he'd sat in that chair, and opportunity had reared its ugly head. Exploration, adventure, and the chance to start over. It was all Weir's fault. The woman was a smooth talker when she wanted to be. She'd told him fantastic stories about evil alien worm-things that would take over one human body and enslave the rest, area-51 type beings so advanced they could beam a person from point A all the way to the other end at point Z (with Z being some space-faring vessel), and an extinct race known as the Ancients of whom John was a descendant of.

_Lucky me. Lucky, lucky me..._ His actual response had been more along the lines of " oh." Had he not sat in that chair, activating it, and before that dodged a squid-looking drone, he might have laughed, albeit a little hysterically. He did laugh sometime later after Weir had asked him (nearly begging) if he would like to join the team about to cross innumerable light years of space into another galaxy full of aliens and the unknown. The adventurous little boy in him said yes, the adult in him – after a quick background research into the Stargate program – felt a somewhat uneasy about it.

_What the hell, why not? That's what I was thinking. _Despite the soft spot in his heart he had for Antarctica, the desolate snowy waste, and the events that had him booted there, had seriously jaded him. Thinking back on it as he was doing now, he realized that he'd been desperate for something – anything – else. Being up to his neck in demerits had stifled many opportunities for him, then came Dr. Weir and her marvelous mission, a chance for him to be a part of something great. He had been a prisoner, and she had given him the key to his cell.

He regretted it. If he somehow managed to survive and get home, the regret would pass, but for now he gave into it. He blamed Weir, but not in a bad way. After all, it wasn't like she had put a gun to his head and told him to join the expedition or else. Saying 'yes' to it had been his own doing. Still, she had presented an offer that had been like food set before a starving man. 'No' had temporarily vanished from Sheppard's vocabulary.

He blamed her, but at the same time couldn't help thanking her.

_Wow, I'm getting delirious. _

No, he wouldn't lay the blame on her. How were any of them supposed to know he would end up spending the rest of his days on a leash? Even with the collar chafing his neck and the feel of soft fur against his face, the reality of what had happened to him was really taking its sweet time about sinking in. He hadn't excepted his fate because he was still too numb with shock to react differently except for how he always acted – taking it in stride. He was waiting for the moment when it all finally hit, and he was reduced to a mental breakdown and huddling in a corner, sobbing like a baby.

_Any moment now. _

Something shrieked and the sound stabbed into Sheppard's pulsing brain. He snapped his head up and blinked groggily as feeling slowly seeped into his limbs. It took him a moment to realize that Junior had stopped moving.

John blinked a few more times to clear the gunky-haze from his eyes. He saw Junior's head turned up at the sky, and he could feel the dino-kid's body shuddering. In fact every draconian head was pointed heaven-ward, clicking, shrieking, and trilling wildly.

John craned his head back as far as his neck would let him. At first there was little to see through the heavy canopy of leaves. Then something flashed by, massive and bright. Junior cringed and slowly back up until he was huddled beneath Momma, clustering with the rest of his siblings.

" This can't be good," John mumbled, gathering fistfuls of Junior's mane to hold on tight.

There came sounds, like monstrous croaks, and they were coming from above. John could see more shapes darting passed the gaps in the canopy.

" What the crap is that?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

Then it happened. The fleeting shapes made themselves known by exploding through the trees and barreling down on the herd of Din-folk. They were birds, massive birds like vultures with longer, more narrow black beaks, copper feathers, and claws as long as John's arm. They attacked in a single torrent – a surprise attack – taking on the adults three to four birds at a time. The adults snapped and swiped at them, which forced them to turn about haphazardly, unable to see where their feet landed. Children were forced to flee from one parent to hide under another, or any adult that was nearest. When this happened, more birds rained down, making for the children. The super-vultures were quick, but the kids were lithe and nimble, dodging the birds with only a nick in the skin to show for it.

Momma-Beast had yet to swipe or even rear. She kept her feet planted on the ground and her body crouched protectively over the kids while her jaws snapped at every bird that came too close. She managed to snag two at the same time and crunch them to death between her teeth. Poppa-beast had pulled out a machete from the sledge and was standing on two legs, hacking at the birds that were within range.

It was chaos, but chaos with purpose. The beasts knew what they were doing, and John had yet to see a single child (as far as he _could_ see) being carried off. But the birds were hard-pressed about not giving up. In fact, considering whether the birds had any reason to begin with, they'd obviously lost it all when the battle began. They dived, not caring whether it was into an awaiting maw or toward a giant machete. Apparently, their motto was 'if we go down, we're taking them with us.'

As though to prove themselves completely devoted to that motto, they increased their attack, focusing ten birds at a time on a single adult – namely those adults protecting kids. To John's horror, Momma-Beast was one of those adults. The birds dove at her and their claws burrowed into her skin. It was almost as though they were trying to pull her away. Then, as she began to stagger to the side, shrieking for help, John realized they were trying to push her back from her children. Poppa-Beast tried to come to her aid, but was assaulted in the same manner. These birds were smart, psychotic and smart – never a good combination.

With Momma about to topple, Junior and his siblings were forced to charge from safety toward the nearest adult, who wasn't near enough in John's opinion. Though it caused him an endless torrent of agony, he brought his broken arm into action by forcing it to pull out the only weapon he had – his knife. He kept flat on Junior's back, using two fingers from the occupied hand holding onto the mane to pull out the blade. Junior was running fast, so fast that the wind actually roared past John's ears and stung his eyes. Yet even through the tears he could see Little sister running alongside Junior, but Older brother and Older sister were no where in sight.

A throaty croak made the hairs on Sheppard's neck rise and cold shoot down his spine. He turned his head enough to see a massive copper body giving chase a little too close for comfort. The bird weaved, then angled just so to come up behind Little sister. It rose higher to glide over the smaller dino, and when Little sis looked up, she yelped, her fur standing on end and tears flying from her wide terrified eyes. Junior moved in close to her to push her away, but the bird kept lowering on her alone. Its claws extended to grab.

John jerked to the side and stretched out his arm to swipe the knife across the black-scaley leg of the over-sized buzzard. The bird croaked in pain and immediately backed off. Junior and Little sis reached the adult, only to take off again when that adult reared up to swipe at a cloud of vultures. Another bird descended on the two crying kids, this time aiming for Junior. When it came within range, John swiped with his knife, severing a claw. The bird recoiled, then resumed its descent. Again John swiped and again the bird recoiled. Finally, on the third try, John managed to take off a whole toe. The bird screamed and retreated back into the air. John let loose a hysteric cry of triumph.

" Screw you you overstuffed mutant turkey!"

The triumph was short lived when an attack came from the side. Junior skidded to a halt and crouched, but not low enough when the bird's hind-claw caught Sheppard to rake him across the back from rib to spine, then snag his vest and rip him from Junior. John flew to the ground, screaming in agony. The pain of impact, and the pain searing through his back, made the world grow gradually dark. Numbness flowed through his veins, into his nerves, and all consciousness abated.

SGSGSGSGSG

A/N: Hee-hee, evil cliff-hanger time. I would like to take this moment to ask you to please contribute to the _Save John Sheppard's Wiry Hide Fund_. All proceeds go to paying his medical bills that he might live and the whumps continue. In return you will receive a complimentary mug, plus the Ancient gene to work any and all Ancient devices. Thank you for your consideration. Paper money will not be accepted, only gold and silver doubloons. Another of my muses happens to be a pirate and that's all he'll take.


	7. Unreachable Salvation

A/N: Thank you all for your amusing reviews and your contribution to the Save Sheppard's Wiry Hide fund. You will be receiving your Ancient gene and mug in the mail at some point in time, or not because we keep forgetting to send them. Sheppard gives his thanks, but please refrain from hugging him or he will shoot you. Give the painkillers a moment to kick in, then attack.

Ch. 7

Unreachable Salvation

_Bloody hell, that's what Beckett would say. Blood freakin' hell, not again!_

His back hurt, chest hurt, side hurt.

_Hello pain, my old friend_, or something like that. Life seemed to be holding him in some continuous loop in which he had to be in horrible agony every few days or the world might end.

Besides the pain, Sheppard also felt cold and queasy. But physical misery was as far as his awareness extended, say for the muffled thumping of his heart. He was sick of lying helpless in mental darkness, even if it was preferable to the pain. Something had happened, something bad, and he needed to pull himself together and assess the damage.

_Danger... Danger, danger, danger... Glad I'm not Will Robinson or I'd shoot that robot. _But he couldn't ignore the fact that there had indeed been danger. He remembered the birds, the claws, and then a truck-load of pain. But was it over?

He nursed the fear welling in his chest, speeding the drum-beat of his heart, until his drifting mentality finally relented to finding solid ground. Fear really did have its uses after all. Soon sounds penetrated the darkness, clicks, trills, and long bellowing cries. The cold clinging to John's skin soaked in to freeze his blood, and he started shivering.

It hurt - the cold - and pulled the rest of his awareness back to where it needed to be. It wasn't easy trying to peel his eye lids apart and return to reality. Pain tried to rip his brain in half the moment the yellow-tinted light of the caves pierced his eyes. He squeezed them shut and moaned out a curse, then made a second attempt.

He was in the woods, lying on his chest. He could feel the soft but dry, scaley texture of a skin beneath him, and a sharp searing sting down his back. Like the cold, that particular pain was growing more unbearable by the minute. The only good aspect of the pain was that it was driving the lingering remnant of sleep from his mind.

When he attempted to move by pushing himself up, he immediately dropped back onto his chest when his back practically erupted into metaphorical flames. He yelped out a strangled cry on falling back, clenching his fist until it shook.

" Ah... Crap! Son of a...! Stupid...!" he snarled, sucking in air through clenched teeth. After a moment the pain surpassed to a tolerable level. He took a shuddering breath, then released it with the same amount of shuddering.

" Take it slow, take it slow, take it slow..." he breathed. Rather than risk another agonizing drop to his chest, he moved his good arm around and reached up to lightly touch his back. His clothes were gone, namely his shirt, jacket, and vest – thankfully not his pants. He felt something strange lying across his back, something slick and slightly moist. When he tried to move it, the pain tried to reignite, so he stopped. It seemed that whatever it was, it was pasted to his skin.

_Screw that._ He lifted his head since the rest of his body was a bust, and glanced around. Everywhere he looked he saw dino-folk tending to the wounds of other dino-folk. They cleaned the cuts by spitting on rags and wiping abrasions, then covering the cuts and gashes with a strange yellow, transparent substance that was vaguely familiar to John. He looked at his hand with the same substance - now dry and hard with old blood – tied around his palms. He pulled the stuff off using his teeth, and found the cuts on his hands to be beyond scabbing to nearly, completely, healed.

John arched his eyebrows. " Oh, cool."

He set his head back on the skin, and winced again when his back burned. The cold made every muscle tight, which in turn angered the gash in his back. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and try to salvage what body heat he could, but couldn't even do that much.

He heard a soft trill and looked up to see Junior hovering over him with the most woeful look of worry on his strange face.

John met the dino-kid's gaze. " You okay, kiddo?"

Junior blinked and cocked his head to one side. He then reached out and peeled the wet, organic bandage from Sheppard's back. John braced himself, but cried out all the same when the pain flared up like a bonfire just as he had expected it to. Junior's ears went flat, and he trilled something frantically.

" _Sorry! Really, really, really, sorry!"_

He dropped the bandage that was discolored from so much blood. He then trotted over to a basket full of the strange miracle poultice/plant/fungus thing and pulled out a short strip. He moved back to Sheppard and gently placed the stuff over the gash in his back. The pain ebbed ever so slightly, and Sheppard relaxed as much as the cold would let him.

" Ooohhh yeah, thanks pal. That really hit the spot. Aw crap I'm cold!" He swallowed. The shivering was getting so that it was hard to breathe, he was so tense. " I'm c-cold pal. Real cold. Got my clothes?"

Junior squeaked and clacked his jaw. He leaned to the side, out of Sheppard's line of sight for a moment. When he came back into view, he was pulling something with him – another skin – which he draped over John, pulling it up to his neck. John lifted his head in surprise.

" My English rubbing off on you already?" he asked. Junior snaked his head back and blinked in confusion.

" Okay, maybe not." Obviously, his shivering had been the give-away to what he'd been trying to say. He was still shaking, but it was already beginning to diminish as his own body heat surrounded him with no place else to go. John sighed. " Thanks." Junior really was a good owner.

John was already beginning to slip back into a more comfortable oblivion when Junior squeaked several times. John's eyes snapped open to see the kid-beast with a shallow bowl cupped in his upturned palm. He set the bowl by Sheppard, but shallow as it was he couldn't reach into it. Junior, not missing a beat of John's continual dilemmas, took a small bit of thinly tanned skin between the tips of two claws and soaked it in the cup. He handed the small skin – which was about the size of a dish-cloth – over to Sheppard. He took it and lifted his head to squeeze the water into his mouth.

The liquid burned down his throat like a thousand needles jabbing the sensitive membrane of his esophagus. He gagged, choked, spluttered, then gasped, tossing the rag away as though it were poison. " What the hell!" he coughed, and kept coughing, then groaned when the burning filled his stomach.

Suddenly, within mere seconds, the throbbing sting along the wound of his back eased out of existence except for a small twinge like a reminder that it wasn't over, just temporarily stifled.

John went still as he contemplated the relief that was filling his body. Now nothing ached, and mobility was his once again, or would be if he wasn't so blasted tired. He picked the soaked rag back up, looked it over, then sniffed it. It smelled... _mediciny_, that was the only way he could describe it, but beneath that smell was something rather minty. It reminded him a little too much of how a dentist office sometimes smelled.

_Novocain for the body, Novocain for the soul. Less then morphine but more than an Asprin. Nice. _His mind was beginning to feel a little thick, but in a pleasant way. _Okay, maybe more than morphine._

Junior, seemingly satisfied by Sheppard's newly acquired ease, dragged a cup over and soaked another rag. John didn't need to sniff it to know this new liquid to be water, and he actually rolled onto his side to turn his head enough so he could squeeze the water into his mouth. When he was done, he lolled back onto his chest, pointing at Junior.

" You, kid, would give Beckett a run for his money. You..." but he never finished when sleep sucker-punched him into unconsciousness.

SGSGSGSGSG

John had taken up residence on Junior's back again once they finally set off. Since days didn't exist much in the underground, there was no saying for certain how long they'd been delayed in the march, tending wounds. Junior's siblings had turned out fine say for a few nicks in their tough hides. Momma Beast had taken the worst punishment out of the rest of the family, and now walked with a slight limp, her back covered in the yellow bandages.

Cold air slipped in through Sheppard's torn clothes and he shivered, but it was a far cry from being bare-skinned. His back still hurt, but not in a way that stifled his mobility, just limited it. As long as he held perfectly still, then the gash didn't hurt at all. The yellow slime was amazing. Too bad Beckett couldn't get his hands on it.

Since John's watch had been broken in the fall, he gaged the passage of time by when the creatures stopped to eat and sleep. Meals were few and far between, probably thanks the the beasts' steady metabolism. They had dried meat, and more of that gut-wrenching plant that Sheppard refused to eat. Sometimes other foods were presented, such as a more moist, lighter colored meat that satiated John's hunger pains for a time. Another time they had a kind of gray berry that was a lot like watermelon in consistency but tasted like an orange. John's attempt at eating it had not cost him, and though it wasn't filling it had to be providing at least a few of the nutrients that he was needing.

The problem was, those were the only two digestible foods gathered. Everything else was either too tough to even chew, or came back out the moment it went down. So meals, for John, were a vicious rarity, and hunger a constant companion. He wouldn't starve any time soon, but slowly over time. He didn't even know where the digestible stuff came from.

_The corner dino drug-store,_ he thought irritably. He didn't hold it against them, though, since they were just as clueless as to what he could eat as he was. Junior presented him with whatever they had, and if John puked it up, Junior became miserable for the rest of the meal.

_Poor kid._ _He's trying._

After the Atilla the Hun wanna-be bird attack, little else attempted to disturb the herd. Beasts that looked to be part wolf/ part mammoth with long tusks tried to make off with the dried meat and a few kids, but being smaller than even Junior, they didn't stand much of a chance, and half were pulverized or crunched. On the second stop to rest after the attack, a horse-sized boa constrictor with red skin and front legs had eyed John a little hungrily, but was chased off by Poppa Beast. So, as far as John could tell, the only real threat was the birds, unless there was some rival dino tribe to be concerned about.

The fourth stop – which John supposed to be the fourth day – brought them in close to one of the great pillars supporting the invisible ceiling. Its height was immeasurable, but its width seemed to be about a mile long. The dino-folk set up camp along the base, and as Junior took John for a short 'walk' John was astonished to see carvings all along the rock face. They were like cave-paintings in their simplicity, and too many to count. One picture cluster showed the stick-figure dino-beings fighting off stick-figure mutant vultures, another – to John's slight discomfort – showed a massive battle between two dino tribes. Junior gazed at the pictures along with John, and so brought him in close. Then they came upon one picture that had John pulling on the leash for a closer look even with the collar tightening around his chafed throat.

John couldn't believe what he was seeing. A ring, with stick-figure people emerging from it; the Stargate. Next to that was an image of these people standing before dino-folk, and behind the people was a log-shaped drawing that John could only suppose represented a puddle jumper, but at an odd angle.

Ancients, they'd been to this place, seen these creatures, and from what John could decipher the meeting had gone off without a hitch. The next picture after the encounter was of several dino-folk giving rides to the Ancients up the cave wall and out, back to the ring.

John's heart started pounding hard and fast. He reached out and pressed his fingers into the gouges forming the ring, tracing the outline. The Ancients had been here. It wasn't just some waste-of-a-trip planet, and it made him wonder if the other supposedly void planets had held their own secret civilizations.

" Sorry Rodney," John murmured. " You were right after all."

His hand lingered on the gate drawing, a hand that began to tremble. Longing invaded his being, one so deep and painful it made the air hard to inhale and his throat constrict.

_Why can't this be more than a drawing?_ He looked back at Junior who was watching him curiously.

_Junior's not dumb, maybe..._

John pointed at himself, then pointed at the stick figure Ancients. " Me, that's like me, I came out of here." He pointed to the ring. " Stargate, I came out of that, it's called a Stargate. I'm... I'm _these_ people." He pointed at the stick figures again, then back at himself. Junior looked from John to the pictures, back to John, back to the pictures, then frowned.

John went rigid. " What? Did I gesture something wrong?"

Junior trilled uncertainly, and Sheppard didn't have the faintest idea how to translate it. Then the moment was interrupted by a loud bellow. Junior turned his head, turned back to look at Sheppard, and shrugged.

John's nodded. " Okay, we go back. But.. but, come on, ask your mom and dad about it. Show them the pictures..."

Junior gave the leash a slight tug, and Sheppard had no choice but to follow. But he kept his gaze on the ring picture for as long as he could.

_Stupid drawings._

SGSGSGSGSGSG

Two more stops, then they left the valley to enter what must have been a tunnel since the ceiling was visible and they were now surrounded by walls. It was still bigger than any cave John had ever heard of, and dwarfed even the dino-folk. There were less trees, mostly strange blue shrubs and some kind of yellow fern. They kept to a shallow river that ran the opposite way of where they were heading and followed it into other tunnels that branched off.

On their second leg of journey through the tunnel, they stopped before the dark mouth of an even smaller tunnel (still massive in Sheppard's perspective). They unhitched their sledges, laid out their skins, then proceeded into the tunnel once camp was ready.

John tensed. The tunnel was musty and devoid of the yellow-tinged light emitted by the weird mineral. Inside was a faint red haze and that was all. Sheppard pulled out his knife, just in case, though the dino-folk gave no indication of being wary. Their eyes were the only source of luminescence, and a poor source at that.

_Well, maybe not for them. What the hell is this place?_

John hated that he had no way to tell time. It felt as though they'd been traveling the dark for hours, but knowing how time liked to play mind games, for all he knew it had only been minutes.

Then they came to it. John knew it was their destination – not because they stopped – but because it was beyond obvious, and all he had to do was look up.

They had entered a grand chamber filled with a faint, white glow. John craned his neck back to find the source of this glow, and instead found himself staring at a distant night sky and an even more distant white moon. They were beneath a chasm entrance.

John's breath caught in his throat. He released it along with a small cry of wonder.

_Junior listened, he understood. They're... they're taking me back, right? They have to be, please let them be taking me back..._

The creatures began ascending the steep incline, and John shook with the overwhelming need for his hope to become fact. Dino-folk moved fast when scaling a wall, and even faster when that wall wasn't perfectly vertical. As the chasm entrance grew closer, it grew wider as well. John could feel the warm, sand-blasted wind brushing his face and stinging his eyes. He took deep lung-fulls of that air, and kept his gaze fixed to the ocean of stars spilled across the endless night.

Then they were out, with nothing but sand and rocks as far as the eye could see. John sat up straight and scanned their unconfined surroundings in disbelief. The dino-folk all began moving away from the chasm, gathering several yards from the precipice. When the distance became sufficient for them they all stopped and sat back on their haunches, staring up into the velvet night with its river of stars alien only to John.

Sheppard slid from Junior's back and stared up as well. At seeing nothing, he glanced around at the gathered beasts who appeared to have frozen in their present posture. So John looked up again, and waited. Then, just when his neck began to ache, he was rewarded for his effort.

Two things occurred that would forever become ingrained in John's mind, vivid as the day he saw it. The sky came alive with thousands of falling stars like a practical rain-shower of lights. Then, as though that were not enough, something began shimmering beyond the atmosphere like veils of iridescent silver. They were reminiscent of northern lights, but brighter and bigger, nearly filling the sky from horizon to horizon.

As the light show played out, John heard something strange. It began as a low hum, but gradually grew in pitch to become a deep, reverberating, chant-like croon. It penetrated John to his very core, vibrating his bones and making his mind whirl. It was not like the mournful groan of the chasms when the wind blew. What he heard was undeniably beautiful, and filled him with a sense of deep peace, making him forget his hunger, pain, and heart-breaking longing.

Then the chant descended until it ended, though the creatures never looked away. Neither could John tear his eyes from the shower of stars and the rippling waves of shimmering silver.

_If only the others could see this._ That one thought, and the longing returned. He looked away when both his neck and throat forced him to by aching. He searched their surroundings once again.

He looked over his shoulder, and saw something jutting from the ground in the far distance, easily over-looked had he not done a double take. He squinted at the object obscured by shadows, and his heart scrambled into his throat.

" No way..."

It couldn't have been. They had to be miles away by now, but the shape was consistent; somewhat oval, but perspective would do that.

" Can't be the gate..."

He looked back at junior, but the kid still had his head tilted back and his nose pointed to the sky. So John crept over to where the leash was tied to Junior's wrist, and began trying to work the knot. He nearly ripped his fingernails off in the attempt. Junior really knew how to tie one wicked knot.

John moved away from Junior as far as he could go, but still wasn't close enough to know just what it was he was seeing. But he had to know, and he needed Junior to know. He needed Junior to understand that this wasn't where John belonged. John began pulling on the leash with his good hand, tugging hard, trying to get Junior's attention, but Junior was fixated on the sky.

" Come on," John murmured, jerking on the leash now. He dug the heels of his boots into the sand and pulled as hard as he could. " Come on, come on, turn around," he snarled. He felt like a dog trying to break free of its chain, and no matter how hard he pulled the chain would never relent.

" Come on, please, turn around, look..." he now begged. He wasn't speaking loud, or at least he thought he wasn't, but in his moment of desperation he had forgotten about dino-folk bat ears. Those ears, on several of the dinos, began to twitch. Then, several heads, mostly those of the young dinos, began to turn, glaring his way.

John took notice, and his blood started rushing. He jerked on the leash, pulled, jerked again, then leaned back putting all his weight into the tug.

" Please, look, just look..."

The ones observing him began clacking their jaws in irritation. One kid, a foot taller than Junior, got up onto all fours and stalked over to Junior, hissing something with mane standing on end and shoulders hunched like a bristling K-9. Junior tore his gaze from the sky to look at the ready to strike dino-boy. He then looked back at Sheppard.

Sheppard's heart did several leaps in his chest. He began pointing to the object rising from the ground, then at himself, then back at the object. " You, me, go there. Come on kid, I just need to see..."

Others began hissing, trilling, and clacking in rising anger. Junior looked around with flat-eared uncertainty. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when raised-hackles boy cut him off with a loud snarl. Junior flinched and looked back at Sheppard – apologetically.

John's spine stiffened, then he cringed. " Oh no..."

Junior gave the leash one hard pull, putting little effort into it, and John was yanked forward, momentarily airborne only to fall face-first into the sand. The impact was mainly centered on his chest, and he let out a cry when his old nemeses pain made a triumphant comeback. He rolled onto the side that hurt the least since he couldn't roll onto his back. A shadow fell over him, and he moved his eyes up to see Junior staring down with the most pitiful, heart-stricken look of sorrow John had ever seen the kid wear. His ears were laid flat, and he looked about ready to cry.

John, panting and shivering, shook his head. " I understand kid. It's my fault, I brought it on myself."

When Junior brought his snout in close to inspect John, John placed his good hand on that snout and patted it. " No grudges here."

Junior's expression didn't change, but the threat of tears had vanished. He gathered John up, and lifted him to climb onto his back. John gripped the furry mane as Junior followed the rest of the dino-folk back to the chasm. Several of the younger dinos passing by hissed and snapped at him, and Junior cringed, trilling out apologies.

" _Sorry, real sorry. I'll keep it quiet next time."_

" _You'd better!"_

" _Sorry..."_

" _I otta break its neck!"_

" _Please don't, it'll be good next time."_

So went John's meager interpretation, though his heart wasn't much into it. He stared at the object rising from the desert, standing like a finger pointing to the sky. But as they neared the chasm and John's perspective of it changed, he did not see the circular opening for a ring, but something solid and misshapen – a lone pillar of rock, probably the last yet to be weathered down into sand and pebbles. John's heart took a nose dive into the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul. He'd gotten Junior in trouble for nothing, and nearly killed himself for a piece of pointless rock.

They began their trek back into the underground. John looked up, taking one last peek at the sky, something he'd always considered his element above all other elements. The wave of lights had faded out, and the night was still.

John's eyes burned, and he blinked back tears before they could fall.

_Home. Why can't I go home? _

SGSGSGSGSGSG

A/N: (sniff) I'm sorry John... but not yet! Just a little more abuse to go, then we'll see. Yes, we'll see. Mwuhahahahahaha...! Oh, John, don't look at me like that with those blasted, sad, puppy-dog eyes...

I apologize for not loading this chapter sooner. Crap happens, then gets fixed.


	8. Cornered

A/N: More Atlantean ruminations, followed by further Shep whumps.

Ch. 8

Cornered

Oceanic sunsets were unbeatable. The best part was when the sun was sitting on the horizon, throwing a citrus-colored path across the perpetually moving water, a path that Ford could have sworn was solid enough to walk on.

Ford didn't normally take to standing out on the balcony as much as he was doing lately. A few moments to enjoy a good sun rise or sunset, and that was about it. He didn't have to check his watch to know he'd been out on this particular balcony for more than just a measly few minutes. More like thirty minutes, give or take.

He was starting to value his privacy a little too much. The problem was, he didn't know how to stop. There was just something about being around people that was making him uncomfortable. Something about trying to laugh with them and crack a few jokes that felt slightly out of place.

Of course, Ford already knew the answer to why he was feeling this way, and he hated it.

_Something's missing, namely Major Sheppard._ People tended to take the impact that others made for granted. It was a cliché thing to say, but the Major's permanent absence had left a gaping big hole when it came to everyday life on Atlantis.

Ford winced. He hadn't meant for the thought to sound like some twisted pun, one that made him sick.

Ford knew that, in time, that hole would fill in to be nothing more than a pin-prick, and life would find a way to resume its normal rhythms. The problem was, there was this the nagging desire to fight the inevitable shift back into normalcy. To give into normalcy was to accept that Sheppard at died falling down a stupid hole, and to accept that meant to accept that he was gone and never coming back. Ford was aware of that harsh truth, but a part of him didn't want to give into its smug attitude of fatalism.

_Crap, Ford, it's an emotion, you don't spite an emotion. _Still, he couldn't help the small satisfaction he got from doing so.

_To give into the truth that the Major's gone is to admit that I failed._

Ford furrowed his brow. " But I did fail."

" What was that lieutenant?"

Startled, Ford whirled around to see Dr. Weir standing in the entrance to the balcony.

" Oh, uh, just talking to myself, ma'am," he quickly said. He then nodded tersely. " Just, you know, been doing a lot of thinking."

" About failure? What is it you think you failed at?"

Ford's jaw dropped. " Uh..."

Weir smiled slightly. " Let me practice a little mind reading trick on you. You think you failed Major Sheppard." She cocked and eyebrow. " Am I right? Did I get it?"

Ford physically deflated, leaning his back up against the balcony rail. " Don't take this the wrong way, Dr. Weir, but duh. I mean, I know we tried to save him, we did, but..."

Weir moved over to the rail and mimicked Ford's posture say for having her arms folded in front of her chest. " But what?"

Ford shrugged. " Should we've gone after him? The thing is - Dr. Weir - the moment I saw those tracks, I freaked – I _panicked_. All I could think was 'there's something down here, so we've gotta split'. I didn't... I didn't even consider going in a littler further to see if something really took the Major or if he just rolled down that dune out of sight. I forgot we were armed and could have taken whatever it was down. I got spooked, Dr. Weir. I bolted."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. " I suppose it's true..."

Ford looked at her, his heart plummeting.

" _If_ you look at it that way. You weren't the only one down there. You had two other men with you. Did you consider their safety as well?"

" Yes ma'am. But if we'd brought reinforcements..."

Dr. Weir held up her hand for him to stop. " Don't Lieutenant. What ifs and if onlys have yet to change anything. You do know you're not the only one wallowing in self blame, right? I don't know if you've noticed, but it seems to me that Teyla is subdued, McKay is – to put it gently – more _irritable_ than what we're used to, Beckett goes pale every time another team is sent through the gate, and me... well, I can't really step outside myself but I did overhear some talk going on about how strict I've been concerning safety protocols. Then there's you, Lieutenant, normally social, now giving in to the lifestyle of a recluse."

Ford sighed. " So what do we do about it?"

Weir shrugged. " Get used to it, I suppose. We can't remain wallowing in our own guilt forever."

Ford looked at Weir in disbelief. " What do you have to feel guilty about?"

Weir gave him another small smile. " Being curious. I wanted to know about those worlds just as much as Rodney. That, and I was the one who'd talked the Major into coming to Atlantis in the first place. Up until the moment he sat in that chair he didn't even know such things as Stargates and Ancients existed, and only moments later I was asking him to step through a machine that would break him down into molecules and shoot him across time and space to a whole other galaxy. I had basically shattered the man's entire concept of reality in only a few minutes and never gave him a chance to catch his mental breath. So I have just as much right to drown in guilt as everyone else."

Ford managed his own small smile, but dropped it when he saw Weir's face devoid of any grin, and her eyes distant.

" Why is this so hard, Lieutenant Ford? John was a soldier, and there was always a good chance that he would never make it back. We new this." She shrugged. " I guess we always assumed it would never happen."

" He died falling into a pit, Dr. Weir," Ford replied. " He didn't get shot, blown up, captured, or wraith-sucked. He had an accident and it took his life. That's no way for anyone to die."

Weir nodded again, but said nothing since there was nothing to say. They both stood with their backs to the vanishing sun sinking behind the ocean, and contemplated their individual feelings of remorse.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

_Oh crap, what've I done?_ Sheppard kept close as possible to Junior without touching him, and watched with a wary eye the young dinos creeping a little too close with the hunched-shoulder posture of a beast readying for the attack.

He'd been receiving nothing but dirty looks from the resident dino-brats since they'd returned to the underworld. That had been a day ago. They were still camped in front of the massive, red-hazed maw that was the cavern entrance. John deemed yesterday's excursion to topside some sort of religious ceremony, and little inconsiderate him had interrupted it.

Thus far the adults had yet to express any form of irritation toward John's brief loss of control. Poppa Beast had given Junior what had sounded like a small berating, somewhere along the lines of;

" _Next time, tie it to a stake and leave it behind."_

In which Junior might have replied;

" _But dad, something would have eaten it." _Or " _Someone would have taken it." _Or " _It might have gotten loose and run away."_

" _No buts, son. Do not bring it to the _(insert religious ceremony here as soon as John could give it a name) _again."_

" _All right, I'm sorry."_

After the lecture, Junior's family treated John no differently than before - Momma Beast with mild interest, Poppa Beast with mild indifference, Little sis with wonder, Big sis with discomfort, and Big bro with annoyance. The other adults took no notice of John. It was just the kids he had to worry about.

Or at least a few of the kids. Not all of them turned their heads to look at him with disgust. Some still held unchecked fascination with him, marred by a little mistrust.

At the moment, Junior was keeping himself entertained by tormenting some sort of cat-sized rodent – an orange and red weasel with a squirrel's tail and very long monkey limbs. He had it cornered beneath a bush, and where ever it moved Junior would block its way. The creature shrieked, a sound like a baby screaming.

John folded his arms and shook his head. " You're a cold critter, Junior. Are you gonna eat it or not?"

As though to answer his question, Junior misstepped and weasel-squirrel darted away, up the cave wall and into a bush clinging to a narrow ledge. Instead of being upset, Junior made laughing sounds, swishing his tail and forcing John to crouch and avoid being knocked senseless. While remaining in a crouch, John chanced a glance over his shoulder.

Another dino-kid was pacing several yards away, emitting unnerving throaty gargling sounds. John stood and straightened as best he could. It was always said that whenever confronted by a predator to appear too big for the predator to want to handle. Problem was, John could stand on his toes and still not even touch the top of his head to the bottom of dino-brat's jaw.

Junior soon picked up on the noises the brat was making and snaked his head around to look. But rather than gargle, hiss, or trill back, Junior's ears went flat and he cringed, quickly looking away.

John looked at Junior in shock. " What, you're just gonna take that crap from him? He's... probably insulting you or something. And you're just gonna crouch there?"

Junior began plucking the leaves from the bush where moments ago he'd been bullying a rodent. John looked back at dino-brat and his blood ran cold when he saw the smug grin on the reptilian face. That's when it finally hit John.

_They aren't pissed at me. They just hate Junior._ Bullies fed off reasons to torment. John's momentary madness had given them that reason. He'd been afraid of this.

Junior's tormentor, still gurgling and smirking, went statue still, then bolted. John started back in surprise and glanced around wildly for danger. He then felt the ground vibrate, and a shadow fell over both him and Junior. Junior continued picking at the plant, wallowing in a state of self-pity, oblivious to the heavy thud of massive footfalls.

Suddenly, one of the adults stepped over both him and Junior, and still Junior didn't look up. Instinctively, John crouched, but the adult's feet missed them by several long feet. The adult, brighter-colored than Junior's dad, began climbing the cave wall, and soon John realized with a quick search of his surroundings that all the adults were doing the same. They scurried up the rock-face with the speed of spooked spiders.

John tilted his head back to watch, amazed. Whenever one of the adults stopped, they opened their jaws to make a sound like the one Momma-Beast had made when checking John over. After making that sound, they would snap their jaws shut and move to another spot. They did this for about two minutes or so when one of the adults made the sound, snapped his jaw, then began digging into the wall with its massive claws. Within seconds it looked as though the large male had broken through into some hole, reached in, and ripped out the ugliest looking snake-worm thing John had ever seen. It was fat, yellow, with bright green veins and a huge mouth full of small serrated teeth. It squirmed in the male's grasp, dribbling a clear, sticky substance from its gaping mouth. The male dino shrieked, then began bashing the worm against the wall until it finally stopped moving. After that, he just let the worm fall the great distance to the hard ground. John flinched when he heard the wet, crunching impact, and his stomach churned.

The worm fell close by enough for him to see its mutilated body oozing more clear liquid that steamed when it touched the ground. John couldn't even give a name to the foul oder the thing gave off.

John scrunched his face in disgust, using the end of his jacket to cover his mouth and nose, and taking a few steps back. " Damn, that thing is freakin' nasty."

Junior twisted his neck around, but still showed no interest in what was going on.

Another adult, a female, came over to the worm and split it open with a single claw. The stink poured from it like an invisible cloud, and John gagged.

" Whoa! Dang! What the crap...!"

The female peeled the flesh from the worm like a human would peel the skin off an orange. She tore the skin into strips of various size and laid them flat on the ground. After that, she began pulling off the thing's musculature and slapping the yellow meat into a skin-lined basket.

John felt ready to puke. " Please tell me that's not dinner."

With the worm picked clean apart, she hauled her collection of worm skin to the river and proceeded to dip it, slap it on rocks, and scrub it on more rocks. Soon the flesh took on a transparent appearance that was very familiar to John. He reached around his back through the rip in his clothes, touching the 'bandage' pasted to his skin.

His face twisted in a grimace. " That's just nasty."

He felt the familiar but obnoxious tug on his neck. Junior was ready to move to another, better, spot in which to brood. John followed like the good biped that he was. With all the adults scurrying about the walls, pulling sewer-bathing worms from the rocks, getting around wasn't as much of the nerve wracking deal as it usually was – say for giant slugs dropping from the sky. Amazingly enough, none of the stinkers landed anywhere near Junior and John, but that didn't stop the splattering thud from making him flinch.

Junior headed down to the river where no worms were falling, and lowered his head to get a drink. John, not thirsty enough to attempt to drink from a river used to wash smelly-worm skin, continued to watch as the adults searched the walls for hidden worm holes. He had assumed the worm's liquid innards to be acidic or something the way they had smoked when spilled on the ground, but since the bandage on his own back hadn't burned his flesh away, he guessed that it was more a chemical reaction to the minerals in the rock.

_If only McKay were here to explain it in less simple terms, _he mused with a smirk.

The sound the creatures were making had to be some kind of sonar/X-ray ability, allowing them to see beyond rock or, in Momma Beast's case when she had been checking John, skin.

It was too cool. Each day he spent with these creatures was another day he learned something new. Hadn't that been the reason for coming to this world in the first place? Hell, Atlantis in general? All in the name of discovery. Well, John was discovering plenty.

_And no one to tell. This is McKay's territory, not mine._ Of course had McKay been the one on the leash rather than John, he'd be dead by now, abandoned by Junior when Junior couldn't figure out how to get his little pet to shut up. John didn't fathom this out of any sort of spite or amusement. There was a lot of truth to it that actually made it unpleasant rather than remotely funny. The only way this situation would be laughable was if it had been a Genii resigned to this fate.

John chuckled at the thought of Kolya being jerked around on the end of a rope. Then he stopped when he remembered that he was the one being dragged around.

_How do I get out of here? _It was not the first time he had asked himself that, and it would never be the last, even if he managed to survive into a ripe old age. He always asked it hoping it would spurn his brain into action and start forming some kind of escape plan. Instead, it planted a seed of despair that he had to quickly smother before it grew. Never in his life had he ever reached the point where he wanted to give up, and his current predicament was not going to be that point. He was a pet, which was a far cry from being a prisoner of war or a prisoner under court martial.

_But I'm still a prisoner if Junior can't get it in his head to return me to the wild. _If the dinos had met the ancients, then the tale of their presence must still linger in their stories and not just their pictures. It was possible those tales might have been distorted, or the dino-folk would have taken into more consideration John being one of those Ancients. But history, once becoming history, tended to get garbled through time.

Just as long as the stories didn't shift the Ancients' presence as being evil, bringing about plagues and what not.

" What to do, what to do..." John uttered.

He heard a hiss, and before he could even turn was yanked off his feet, falling hard on the flat of his back. Air rushed from his lungs and refused to be sucked back in. Shrieking, hissing, and gurgling resounded in his skull. When he did manage to catch his breath he rolled onto his chest to see three taller dino-kids shoving Junior's head under water.

" Hey!" John screamed and scrambled to his feet to charge at the nearest kid. He knew good and well the lack of impact his scrawny body would make against something bigger than an elephant, but it didn't mean he couldn't try.

Half-way to his destination he slowed enough to pick up a rock, and when near enough to the brat drowning Junior he gave it one massive hurl. The rock impacted on the kid's thigh with a thud, eliciting an annoyed shriek from bully number one. That same bully released Junior, whose head shot out of the water, gasping and spitting.

Junior was momentarily forgotten. The three bullies had now redirected their sights on John, and blood-curdling sights they were.

" Ah hell," John wavered. He took a step back. The bullies rose onto all fours and took a step forward, then another step and another. John kept moving but was jerked to a halt when the leash pulled against the back of his neck.

His heart proceeded to try and crawl into his throat. " Oh no, no, no, no, no... Son a of..."

The three thugs were between him and Junior. John looked at Junior pleadingly, but Junior seemed glued to the spot, unable to act just watch in horror.

" Come on, pal. Don't do this, please," John said desperately. The bigger bully of the three stopped in front of John and extended his claw. At that moment, Junior lifted his own claw and bit the tether tied to it clean in half. The leash went slack. John was free.

Junior followed it up by leaping forward and biting on bully numero uno's tail. When the howl of pain erupted, John turned and took off at the maddest run he could muster. He heard behind him a shriek cut short, and chanced a glance over his shoulder to see Junior lying sprawled in the water, trying to get up. John didn't linger on the sight. The bullies were coming up fast behind him.

The pain running created was excruciating, making him falter and nearly fall. He risked another glance over his shoulder in time to see one of the bullies leap. John skidded to a halt and the kid landed beyond Sheppard. Sheppard veered to the left where he spotted a field of varying sized rocks that looked too complicated for oversized dino-monkeys to get through.

He didn't get too far when the lead bully landed just to John's right and swiped. The massive paw impacted with John's body to send him flying fast and hard. His sudden flight stopped short when he came in contact with a rock formation rising up from the ground like a crumbling wall. Something cracked, then he hit the floor and his leg snapped audibly. He screamed, pulling his leg toward him and grabbing his shin, rolling into a quivering ball of agony.

But it wasn't over. He felt something cool and hard slide through his collar along his neck-bone. The collar tightened, and as John was being slowly pulled back he began to choke and claw at the collar to rip it off. Suddenly he was flung again, and the impact was on his still-healing arm. More pain in the form of cold fire flooded him so that he let loose another throat-tearing scream. Without thinking he began to scramble backwards pressing his shaking arm tightly to his chest. He looked through squinting eyes to see the three hot-heads stalking toward him like panthers that had been given too much Miracle Grow. Terror choked John, and he kept falling on his back as he tried to back away.

His spine touched something solid, another rock. A pile of rocks actually, and with an opening just above his head big enough for him to squeeze through. Ignoring the pain that was making his mind reel dizzily, he turned enough to pull himself up with one arm, then pull himself through the small cave entrance that scraped his ribs and nearly caused him to black out. But he managed to slip through and dropped the very short distance to the floor, startling a group of big-eyed mouse-lizard things that took off into nooks and crannies.

John flipped onto his back and continued to shove backwards with one leg as far as he could go. Claws gouged at the rocks surrounding the entrance, making it big enough for numero uno's hand to slip through. John pressed himself into the rocks blocking his way. His spine stiffened, heart slammed, and he turned his head away when the claws shot straight at him.

Then stopped four inches from his face to swipe and clench at air. John watched the claws out of the corner of his eye. The hand retracted and began gouging the rock entrance. Then the hand shot through again and Sheppard flinched, cringing his trembling body further against the obstruction. The bully still couldn't reach.

_He won't stop until he cuts an artery or skewers me. _John moved his arm slowly, keeping it tight to his body, as he reached into his vest pocket for his knife. He retracted the blade using his thumb, then ducked under the claw, flipping onto his back at the same moment to swipe the soft flesh of dino-brat's finger. The flesh split, numero uno shrieked, then tore his paw out of the cave. His receding shrieks gradually diminished into the distance.

John began to chuckle hysterically.

_That's it you little SOB! Run home to momma!_

Then he stopped laughing.

_Momma's gonna be pissed. _

He shuddered, then choked out a gasp at the myriad of pain tearing his body to pieces. Fading adrenaline was leaving agony in its wake. John rolled onto the side of himself that did not protest having pressure put on it. He kept his broken leg straight, and brought the other leg to his chest, curling into himself, panting and shivering.

He was terrified, there was no denying it. The dino-folk weren't going to be happy that some two-legged creature had just attacked one of their own. Yes, it had been in self defense, but who were they going to believe? The gibbering little alien beast, or one of their own kids. His only hope of avoiding being squashed like a bug was a lack of intimidation on Junior's part in defending his fragile pet.

John squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, swallowed, then coughed which angered his flank.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much..._ But not enough for him to black out. He did drift, though, wheeling in and out of consciousness. He wanted to vomit, but didn't have the strength for even that much. With the immediate terror of being chased long gone, exhaustion spilled over him thick as mud. He was scared, but his body no longer cared for fight or flight responses.

He heard frantic chatter, squeaks, and trills. Even with his body spent, John's heart still managed the strength to start another round of mad pounding. He tilted his head back to see a luminescent neon green eye peering at him through the hole.

John shrank back. " Oh no, please no..."

A hand slipped through the hole, smaller than the hand that had tried to slice him to ribbons. John tensed as the claw neared, but couldn't move even with terror trying to pump him full of the little adrenaline he had left.

The claw rested lightly against his chest, and soft purring trills echoed in the tiny cave.

_Junior._

Junior laid his paw flat on the ground, palm up. John gathered the pint of strength he had left and pulled himself half-way into that palm. He didn't need to go the rest of the way. Junior lifted him up, and with the entrance being widened thanks to Dino-brat number one, slipped him out of the mouse-lizard cave with ease.

What happened after that came to Sheppard in snatches of awareness. He remembered being passed off to Momma Beast who was hovering nearby. The pain of that simple transfer had sapped him of his lingering energy. He was taken somewhere – to someone. Sheppard saw a wrinkled Dino-face through the haze over his eyes. That sound, like a machine starting up or camera charging, drilled into his brain.

_X-ray vocals..._

Then came the odd part. Old healer man, or whoever it was looking John over, clicked something to Junior. Junior shrank back, shivering. John was set on the ground. Junior, using the tip of his claw, opened John's jaw enough to squeeze in the burning super-morphine drink. It worked fast, and John felt himself slipping into that wonderful land known as oblivion. He was distantly aware of Junior grabbing his leg, but a little more aware when the kid began pulling. He felt, and heard, the grate of bone against bone. It hurt, but not like it probably would have had he not been drugged. He winced, closed his eyes, and thankfully passed out.

_Ouch. _

SGSGSGSGSGSG

A/N: Wow! T'was a mighty chapter indeed. Although the next one may be far mightier still. We're nearing the end here folks! John really can't take much more of this. Something's gotta give, right?


	9. Please

Ch. 9

Please

It was inevitable. Parents were indeed pissed, and a confrontation quickly followed. John awoke for the end of it.

Poppa Beast was bellowing, shrieking and hissing to brat's daddy, and the two mothers were bristling. The rest of the clan was gathered around, watching the conflict play out as though it were a live-action soap opera.

_Today on All My Monsters..._

John's head swam between feeling and numbness. He observed the verbal battle royale in a detached sort of way, aware enough to know that he should be worried, but too immersed in lethargy to dredge up the energy to react. So he just watched.

The argument, already hot, was becoming over heated. Poppa Beast rose onto his hind legs, and Brat's daddy followed suit. They bellowed long and loud, clacking jaws that made a bone-jarring crunch. Another male, feet bigger, darker colored, and slightly wrinkled, stepped up to the two, clicking at each dad in turn. The two bellowed again.

_Welcome to the Monster's court. All rise for Judge Behemoth..._

" _So what is your complaint?"_

" _His kid's pet bit my kid!"_

" _His kid tried to kill my kid's pet, _and _my kid!"_

" _Settle down or I will hold you both in contempt and rip out your throats."_

It was probably about a thousand miles off to the actual conversation, but John wasn't in the right state of mind to think up something better.

The judge or tribe leader or whoever the elder dino was appeared to be a good listener. He turned his head in the direction of the one talking, and raised a claw to silence the other if they tried to interrupt. Finally, he raised both claws, and both parties fell silent. He then began bellowing, trilling, and clicking in the language John had christened ancient dolphin.

On finishing his spiel, he dropped to all fours then snaked his head down. Junior and the bully that had tried to take John's head off stepped forward. Junior was cringing, bully was bristling. Tribe leader started with Junior, and when bully tried to interrupt was silenced by a flick on the head from dad. After Junior's story, Tribe leader listened to the brat's side of things. After both sides were heard, Tribe leader trundled over to where Sheppard lay curled on a skin.

Again, John's brain prodded his body, asking it why it wasn't flooding its systems with fear-induced adrenaline. The body refused to respond. Tribe leader made the high-pitched recharge sound, stopped, then nodded. He turned to the gathered throng, bellowed, clicked, trilled, and everyone nodded assent when he finished.

Brat's daddy visibly deflated, while Poppa Beast stood a few inches taller.

_Way to go, pop._

Junior, however, was still droop-eared and abashed. But John was never given the chance to reflect on it when he slipped back into sleep.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

_Some pet I am_. But John couldn't help that, now could he? Junior kept John in a perpetual state of numbness and lack of awareness as they traveled. It was easy since Junior's back was broad enough to hold Sheppard without him slipping off, and it was either that or incite another brat revolt every time Sheppard screamed because of a slight jolt or shift in his prone position. They had wrapped his leg, but had not splinted it, or his arm. He was pretty sure his ribs were beyond cracked to being broken. Even bound, they still hurt like hell when the drug wore off.

At least the drug wasn't addictive. As much as he liked not feeling pain, he didn't look forward to the next round of drink to be poured burning down his throat.

But it didn't feel right that he should be drugged for so long. He started waking up nauseas, but had nothing in his guts to puke. He was thirsty, and could never get enough water. Yet if he refused the medicine, then the pain became unbearable.

They left the tunnel and entered another forested valley. At this point John attempted another try at not taking the sour drink in case a second airborne raid occurred. Pain covered his skin in a single sheen of sweat, and drops tickled down his neck and sides. When they next stopped, Junior tried to give him some meat, but John couldn't even look at the stuff.

Besides nauseas, he also felt cold, even with his clothes on, and began shivering non-stop. His head throbbed, and his lungs felt heavy, which in turn started getting him into coughing fits, which angered his sides.

_Infection. Goody._

John took the medicine so he at least did not have to put up with the pain. He was careful about it, trying drops rather than squeezing streams of the stuff from the rag to his mouth. It worked in that the pain lessened, but his mind still took up a misty existence.

On their next leg of the journey, John was alarmed, even from his haze, when Junior's tribe encountered another tribe. The differences in the two tribes was distinguished by their dress. Where as Junior's people wore jewels and skins, this new band of dinos wore jewels, skins, and feathers attached to the jewels and skins.

John watched tensely as the tribes' leaders conversed. It didn't take them long to talk, and once the chit-chat was over, the two groups intermingled, taking up the actions of trade. Skins were exchanged for skins, food for food, and jewels for jewels.

John dubbed the new tribe the Vulture Slayers, since the feathers were remarkably similar to the air-dwelling raiders.

Junior stayed by Momma Beast as she exchanged jewelry with a feather-decked female. The female's children were peering from behind their mother's legs at Junior and the weird creature clinging to his back. One of the kids, a male that looked to be Junior's size, tugged on one of his mother's necklaces, trilled, and pointed at Junior. Slayer-mom looked down at her boy, then at Junior and his critter. John couldn't help shrinking back some the way Junior number two was eying him with a little too much interest. Slayer mom clicked something and pointed at Junior.

" _How much for that biped on your kid's back?"_

Junior's fur stood on end and he shrieked.

" _Like hell I'm going to sell it!"_

" _Watch your language, son." _To Slayer-mom. " _It's not for sell."_

John could feel Junior's muscles ease out of their tense hold. Slayer-kid snorted derisively.

" _It's ugly anyways."_

After market day was complete, the journey resumed.

_Teyla would have gotten a kick out of that,_ John thought wistfully.

Two more days of travel, and then they were there. John knew it was the dino-folk's destination when they crested a rise to see another valley stretched below them. To the right was a lake, and to the left a plateau pock-marked with many caves. The dinos trilled and bellowed in excitement, then hurried down the hill to their destination.

John let out a shuddering sigh. Now they would stop. Now he could rest.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

John wasn't getting any better. Three days of rest, and the pain was still strong, the cold biting, and the coughs just as constant. He couldn't eat, couldn't even stand the sight of food, and so his body shook from both chills and fatigue. He didn't even have the energy to interpret any more dino-chatter.

Junior seemed uncertain about what to do; him, his family, and even the old healer. They tried giving him various medicines, three of which he puked back up, and two that didn't do squat for him. One did help to clear up the coughing for a time, which he knew better than to not be grateful for. Other than that, all they could do was keep him warm and give him water.

Being blind and deaf to time, John couldn't say how long the sickness had lasted. It fell like forever, but forever could range from two minutes, two days, or two years. He wasn't getting better, but at least he wasn't getting worse. Either that or he was so used to feeling like crap that he couldn't tell the differing degrees of it.

The only change that came about was when Junior lifted John onto his back and carried him down to the lake where other Dino-folk were gathered - swimming or laying on the solid-rock shore. Junior helped John to slide carefully from his back onto the shore where John lay on his chest, facing the lapping water. Junior then pointed at the water, then pointed at John.

John narrowed his eyes at the dino-kid. " What, you saying I stink?"

Junior proceeded into the lake until the water was flank-high on him, not too far from John in case something bad went down involving more bullies.

John sighed. " Yeah, I could probably use a bath."

The super-morphine was still lingering, and the pain was stifled. He pushed himself up on his good arm and good leg, hobbling like a crippled dog closer to the water. He turned to sit with his back to the lake. The kind of bath he needed was out of the question, but he knew the cuts on his back – and everywhere else – required cleaning. He removed his vest, jacket, and shirt, setting them aside away from the water. He then paused, panting. Just taking off his shirt had almost overtaxed him. His hand shook uncontrollably as he loosened the bandage around his chest, and again was forced to rest.

_This is messed up._ It was a terrible understatement, but John didn't know how else to put it. He sat hunched up when the cold of the cave allied itself with the cold of sickness for one massive assault. He brought the knee of his good leg up to his chest, and wrapped his good arm around himself. He could feel his ribs with a clarity that disturbed him.

John pulled his arm away and twisted around enough to look at his face in the water. Even through the gentle rippling, John was able to make out a pale face with sunken and shadowed eyes, and stubble.

_Deaths chew-toy incarnate._

John turned away when his side hurt. He wrapped his arm back around his chest despite being able to feel his own bones.

_So much for a bath. Water probably would have killed me with hypothermia anyways._

Each breath entered and exited his lungs in unsteady rasps. He needed to get dressed, but had lost the will to move. He lowered his head until his forehead was touching his knee.

_Hello, Death? This is John Sheppard. So when are you dropping by?_

He closed his eyes.

_Except I don't want to die. Not like this. But like I have a choice. I'm dead – today, tomorrow – time to come to terms. Maybe I'll go in my sleep. Or maybe I should just make it fast and let myself get stepped on._

He heard a soft clicking, so looked up. Junior was staring at him, but the childish wonder and innocent curiosity he usually held when regarding John were missing. Junior looked worried – actually, he looked sad.

Junior wasn't naïve.

John could see himself reflected in Junior's phosphorescent eyes; small, dirty, bruised, verging on emaciation... broken... weak... His throat tightened until he could barely swallow. Never a fun thing to feel - weakness, helplessness. He was pathetic, absolutely pathetic in his own sights. It made his blood run fast and hot with the anger of it. But anger was draining, and soon he didn't have the means even for that.

It didn't matter anyways. As good an owner as Junior was trying to be, there were some creatures in this universe not meant to be pets, especially creatures from other worlds. Like putting a fresh-water fish in a salt water tank, it had only been a matter of time before Sheppard physically fell to an environment that he was not meant for.

He didn't blame Junior. The kid had tried. It was the only reason John was still around this far.

Too bad. A little more time, and John might have found a way home.

_Home._

John continued to hold Junior's gaze.

" It isn't possible kid. You tried, but it just isn't possible."

Junior chirped questioningly.

The tightness in John's throat extended into his chest. He was succumbing. The situation had wrapped its claws around his neck, and now squeezed.

" I want to go home," John said with a voice that cracked as he tried to dam in the emotion cascading over his heart. An unbearable itch invaded his lungs. The cough that wracked him was lung deep, painful, and body wrenching. He habitually covered his mouth as his lungs tried to discard themselves from his chest. When he pulled his hand away, he saw blood splattered on his palm, and his heart plummeted.

" Crap," he wheezed, and coughed again. When he glanced back up at Junior, moisture was brimming on the edge of the dino-kid's eyes. Then they fell. He pushed John's clothes over to him. It was time to go.

John didn't have the energy to struggle into his shirt, so just placed on his jacket and zipped it up, gathering the rest of his clothes to his chest. Junior gathered John up, but instead of placing John on his back, cradled him to his chest. He scurried back to the cave and moved fast even on three legs. Their cave wasn't as high as the last one, so it didn't take Junior as long to get home. He laid John gently on a skin near the great bonfire, covering him with a second skin.

" Thanks pal," John rasped. Junior clicked and chirped, then lightly placed his paw over John's covered form. John was shaking, bad, and he knew that Junior could feel it. Junior trilled a high sound that was distressful and the tears rolled over the scales of the kid's face. He turned, and began shrieking, clicking, and squeaking wildly -all while sobbing. Momma Beast hurried over and clicked several times.

" _What's the matter, son? What is it?"_

" _It's dying mom, it's dying and I can't do anything, help it, help it...!"_

John gave up on that particular translation. He wanted to drift off, and was about to when Junior did something that snapped enough awareness into John that he lifted his head.

Junior was carving a circle in the ground with a single claw. Then he drew stick figures in front of that circle. He pointed to John, then to the figures, then to the ring. Momma Beast's ears pricked and her glowing eyes went wide. She looked at Junior's drawing, then at John. She clicked frantically and hurried out of the cavern.

John watched it all in numb disbelief. Junior had understood him that day at the pillar when they had seen the pictures. They knew, they remembered. But, of course, Junior hadn't wanted to give up such a neat, mythical pet. Therefore, he had kept his snout shut about it.

But Junior wasn't stupid. He knew, now more than ever, that it was time to relent. His favorite pet's life was at stake.

_Good owner. Great owner. _John had surpassed cool pet and climbed the ranks to friend. A _Friend's_ life was at stake.

Momma Beast returned in minutes with Poppa, Tribal healer, and Tribal leader in tow. They all gathered around Junior with their massive backs to the fire. Momma Beast trilled, and Junior launched into a fast-spewed variation of clicks, squeals, trills, and shrieks. He pointed at the ring, at the figures, and then at John. He chattered even more, pointing at John all the while. Every male adult's head jerked back in surprise. The old healer croaked and nodded, and the adults gathered together to confer.

John's heart ascended into madly rapid beats. Junior looked from each of the adults, sitting rigid enough to snap with tail lashing wildly. The healer seemed to be the most vocal, continually gesticulating in John's direction. When he finished, Tribal leader looked at Poppa Beast and clicked rapidly. Poppa Beast nodded.

Whatever was said, it got Junior up on all fours and brought a bright smile to his reptilian face. He scurried up to pop, trilled several times, and when Poppa Beast trilled back, Junior began leaping about wildly.

John dropped his suddenly heavy head back onto the quilt. " Please let it be as good as it all seemed," he mumbled, then lost consciousness.

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

John awoke to something he couldn't quite fathom. At first, his sleep-addled brain had assumed them to be on the move again. He was on Junior's back, and in front was the massive moving legs of one of the adults. Then, as John's brain slowly cleared, new things came to light. For one thing, he was covered by a skin. For another, the only adults John saw was the one in front, two behind, and two on either side, and that was it. There were also no sledges, just a pack tied to the lead adult's back, an adult that looked a lot like Poppa Beast. They were moving fast, not quite running but taking longer strides.

The members of the party were all male and all armed to the teeth with thick skins strapped to their backs and machetes held in place with ropes around their waists. On looking behind him, John could see that Junior was armed with a small machete of his own, and John could feel the thick hide of armor beneath his hands.

John still had his things, his vest and shirt still tucked under his good arm. Yet he could not wrap his mind around the situation, and tried to recollect if he had missed something. Then the haze returned, becoming a fog, then blackening around the edges of his sight. He fell back into a deep, painful sleep.

The next he woke was to a slight nudging in his uninjured arm. On waking, he became assaulted by another fit of violent coughs, and wiped the blood from his lips. Junior was beside him, trying to hand him a soaked rag. John sucked on the rag, then squeezed it, letting the cold water trickle down his throat, cooling the burn that made it near impossible to swallow anything but cold moisture. He still couldn't eat not matter how much Junior tried to press him to.

Where ever they were going, they were going there in a hurry. When John next awoke they were on the move again, slipping through trees and over rough terrain. At one point they stopped and crouched on hearing the awful croak of the mutant vultures. When the croaks faded into the distance, they rose and started off again. John was barely aware say for the changes in the land if any. If time had been playing at being coy before, it had totally abandoned him now. It was too hard to stay awake, too hard to remain aware, and he saw no reason to try.

Everything around him might as well have been a dream. He slipped in and out so much that reality melded with his unconscious visions. At one point, with his eyes open, he thought he heard Ford's voice, then Teyla's, McKay's Dr. Weir's. He was standing in the control room of Atlantis, and McKay was pissed, ranting but in an unsteady voice. John couldn't find his own voice to ask why, so merely furrowed his brow. Then, when he turned, he saw Junior sitting on his haunches – in the control room.

" Get that thing out of here, Major!" McKay snapped. John stared at Junior, who stared back with wide, wonder-filled eyes. John saw himself reflected in those eyes. Dirty, pale, thin... weak.

" I can't," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

" He's too big! He'll smash things!"

" He saved my life."

" Major!"

" He's saving my life."

" Major," more kindly now. John turned. McKay was no longer alone. Teyla, Ford, Beckett and Weir were standing there.

" What was it like?" McKay asked.

John smiled sadly. " I wish I could tell you."

" Can you not try?" Teyla said.

" I don't have time."

" Then make time, sir," said Ford.

" You've survived worse, lad." Beckett.

" You need to tell us, John." Dr. Weir. " You need to tell us all you've seen. Please, tell us..."

John began to tremble. " I... Junior – he – saved my life..."

John awoke, gasping in air, only to cough it back out hard. When the cough ended and the blood was wiped from his mouth, John glanced around to take in their surroundings.

Setback; there was nothing to see. Everything was dark say for a red haze and the bright glow of the Dino-folk's eyes.

John didn't have to see. He knew where he was, and so automatically looked up.

A patch of starry sky hovered over him like a stargate of natural design, dialed and ready to enter. John shook his head.

_No, they're not taking me back. This is just... this is just some ceremony, maybe Junior's passage into manhood or something. This can't be..."_

The adults, before ascending the incline, strapped John to Junior's back with a few strips of leather. Once secure, they took to the walls and scurried up them fast as squirrels.

Once on the surface, John lifted his head a second time, but saw nothing protruding from the ground that even resembled the gate. He lowered his head.

_Thought so._

The dinos weren't done, though. They continued their trek over the flat expanse of nothing, during the night, then into the cool day with its perfect temperature. They stopped once to rest, drink, and eat, then started up again. The presence of a night and a day put a halt on time's torture. For two days they journeyed, and near the end of the second day, they broke into a run.

_How do they know where they're going_? But that was just one in a thousand questions John had, such as why the dinos migrated, what was that glowing yellow mineral, what had the Ancients done for the dinos that made the Ancients legend, or had the dinos revered them as something divine...?

What name had Junior given John? And what was Junior's real name?

Suddenly, the little party skidded to a halt. John lifted his head. His jaw went slack, and tears burned his eyes to trace paths in the grime caking his face.

Rising from the ground was a ring, a perfect ring.

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

A/N: Just a little more folks... and John. Just a little more.


	10. Final Plea

Ch. 10

Final Plea

" Thank you," John wheezed, sobbing, dropping his forehead onto Junior's back. His body shook with an emotional flood. " Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

The small party of dino-folk approached the gate with heads down and hackles raised like an animal coming upon something it had never seen before. When they came to the gate, they gave it a wide birth, sniffing at it.

The sight of the gate right in front of him was like a shot of adrenaline into John's bloodstream - a small shot but still the shot he needed. He began feverishly tugging at the ropes binding him to Junior yet never took his eyes from the most wonderful device he had ever seen. Junior swiveled his head around at John's frantic motions. He trilled softly, then looked down as he began working the knots of the bindings. They fell away, one by one.

Taking a deep breath, Junior moved closer to the gate. Poppa Beast trilled, and Junior nodded. Junior sniffed at the DHD, then at the gate. He touched the DHD with his claw.

" It's harmless kid, I swear," John said quickly. He pointed at the DHD. Junior, taking the hint, crouched and Sheppard slid off onto the ground. He dragged himself closer to the DHD with one arm. Once by it, he reached up and used it to haul himself to his knees, grimacing and uttering choked cries of pain. But he didn't care. It didn't matter, not if he could get home.

He leaned heavily on the device. Looking over his shoulder, he waved Junior and the others back. They complied, putting a few more feet of space between them and the gate. John nodded, then began to dial.

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

McKay held the small pebble with its bit of amber gold in the center of his palm, glaring at it. Then looked up to glare at Zelenka.

" Throw it in the ocean. You want to just chuck it into the sea, this close to Atlantis..."

" No," Zelenka replied defensively. " Far away from Atlantis, and anything else electrical."

Rodney rolled his eyes. " Yes, let's just toss an alien rock into a salt water compound and see what new mineral might be created or if this particular mineral grows... We don't know enough about this thing to just go tossing it. I'm just going to take it back. It didn't do anything to the gate on the way over, so, logically, it won't do anything on the way back. The range of this thing isn't _that_ great."

" You're really willing to go back there? After... After what happened?"

Rodney stared at the rock, then closed his fingers over it. " Actually, I'd like to smash it into a thousand pieces. Can't risk the dust getting everywhere though..."

" McKay?" Dr. Weir's voice sounded over the radio. " I need you up here, now."

" What, why?"

" Now, doctor."

McKay and Zelenka exchanged questioning (Rodney's a little exasperated) looks, then hurried from the lab, McKay tossing the pebble behind him back onto the table, machines flickering then blinking off.

" Stupid rock," McKay muttered. Both he and Zelenka ran to the control room where Weir, Teyla, Ford and other various Atlantis personnel were all gathered. Glancing from the windows, McKay saw that the gate was activated.

" What, what's the problem?"

Weir pointed at the gate. " That. Unscheduled activation."

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

The gate rushed to life in an explosion of liquid that quickly imploded and smoothed into a shimmering puddle. The dino-folk shrieked, and Junior darted behind Poppa Beast's leg. John looked at his young friend and the big male, and nodded.

" It's good, this is good," he slid to the ground, unable to hold himself up anymore, " this is very good," he panted. He snatched his vest lying by his side, dug through the pockets, and pulled out his transceiver.

" Please work, please, please, please..." He clutched it to himself, then began the agonizingly slow crawl to the gate. But impatience and urgency got the better of him, so he put the radio to his ear.

" Atlantis..." he coughed, sucked in a breath, and tried again. " At-Atlantis, this is Major John Sheppard, I repeat, John Sheppard, do you copy!"

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

" What!" McKay barked.

The transmission crackled. " Does... copy... John... Atlant... receive... hello...?"

McKay looked at Elizabeth and Elizabeth looked at McKay, her jaw slack. Ford approached them both, his head cocked to one side in a listening manner.

" This... Sheppard!... Please... hear..."

Ford shook his head. " No way."

SGSGSGSGSGSG

" Please!" John screamed. " Please, do you copy, please, answer me!" He choked on his cry, and his breath caught in his throat. He half coughed, half sobbed. " Please, Atlantis, Dr. Weir, Rodney, Teyla, Ford, anyone! Please... I need help...!" He coughed, and wiped his mouth, smearing blood on his hand.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

The transmission was clearer the next time around.

" I need help!"

The desperation in the voice, a voice hoarse and struggling, pierced Elizabeth's heart. The pain in that voice was so palpable it made her ill.

" Respond," Weir ordered one of the techies. The young tech nodded an okay, and Weir spoke.

" Um, Major Sheppard...? This – this is Atlantis, we read you..."

SGSGSGSGSGSG

John's throat caught in another sob. " Atlantis! Dr. Weir, lower the shield. Please. I – I need help!" He coughed another body-wrenching cough, rasped in some air, and spit out a glob of blood. His body felt like gallons of led had been poured into it, and it was dragging him down even with him already on the ground.

_Now or never, Atlantis. Please..._

SGSGSGSGSGSG

Teyla heard coughing coming from Major Sheppard, and her heart started a kind of mad-dash thumping.

" What is wrong, Major Sheppard?"

" Please, lower the shield! Please! I – I can't..." either the transmission had broken up again, or John had trailed off.

Teyla looked at Dr. Weir. " We must lower the shield."

Sgt. Bates, who'd been standing to the side, shook his head. " No, we can't. This might be a trap. If that is Major Sheppard, and I'm not saying it is, he might have been compromised."

" He's right," Weir said with a tight swallow, and Teyla knew it wasn't an easy thing for her to be agreeing with the man.

McKay's eyes rounded over. " A trap? You think this is a freakin' trap? What, the Major was captured, tortured and is being forced to tell us to open the gate? It's Major freakin' Sheppard for crying out loud! The man would risk his own butt to save a kitten, and you think he's compromised! There is nothing in the entire galaxy that would force him to give us up _except _us and we're all here safe and sound."

Teyla looked back at Dr. Weir. " He is right. John would never put us in such danger."

Bates stepped forward. " We can't trust the situation, ma'am."

McKay rolled his eyes. " Oh, so what, you're going to just leave him there to die? What if it is him? I don't know about you, Sargent, but it sounded to me like Sheppard was _not_ his usual one hundred percent self."

They heard coughing, then: " Atlantis..." the voice sounded weaker, and it stabbed Teyla to the core.

_He is suffering. He is suffering and we are just standing here..._

Ford stepped up then. " Send me through. I'll bring him back."

" What about a MALP?" Zelenka suggested.

Ford shook his head. " Don't think we have time, doc."

" Well, we need to do something," McKay growled. " I'll be damned if it's him and we lose him again."

" Same here, doc," said Ford.

" I as well," Teyla rejoindered.

Dr. Weir looked from one to the other, then exhaled sharply.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

John could no longer keep his head up. It didn't matter his desperation, the darkness hovering at the edge of his vision was being pushy. It wanted in, and no amount of chemical-inducing terror was going to stop it.

His breathing was being uncooperative, as though his lungs were packed with cotton. He coughed, trying to clear it, and winced from the pain.

_Hello death, took you long enough._

He felt something lightly touch his back, and he opened his eyes to see Junior. He was worried, and sad.

_Not naïve. Never was._

" You tried," John whispered, closing his eyes. " You tried. You're a good kid, a good owner, and I'm proud I could be your pet." He chuckled, then coughed. " Weirdest thing I've ever said. But... hey... it's true. I'm sorry you couldn't do more. But don't feel bad. You tried. Nothing to feel bad about when you try."

He lifted a shaking hand, but didn't have what he needed to reach Junior's snout. So Junior brought his nose in closer, and touched John's hand.

_Yeah, friends now. Not pet. Friend._

" By the way, my name's John... What's yours?"

The radio crackled. " Major Sheppard, this is Atlantis. The shield has been lowered. You may come through."

John gasped, the darkness receding like an army being driven back. He dropped his hand, and stretched it out, pulling himself across the sand. He barely moved an inch.

" I – I can't..." he coughed. " I can't... move...!"

" We will be sending help..."

Suddenly, John was lifted from the ground in both of Junior's claws. He sucked in a breath from yet another wave of pain, then coughed it out.

" No! No help! I'm – I'm coming, I'm coming now..." he said, unable to hold back his hysterical, but weak, laughter. It would have been rather nice to have Atlantis come get him, but he didn't want them overreacting at the sight of Junior and his kin. Junior approached the gate hesitantly until he had John only an inch from it. John looked back at Junior.

" Time to let go, kid." John touched the shimmering surface of the event horizon – shimmering like the silver Aurora Borealis. " Thanks kid." John managed a weak smile. " You did it."

A smile touched Junior's features.

John summoned his very last, tentative thread of strength, and rolled off Junior' outstretched claws. The last thing he saw was Junior beaming, and the last thing he heard was a gentle trill. Then he was sucked up into the gate, broken down, and careening through time and space.

When he emerged, he emerged rolling and ending up on his back, staring at a metal ceiling. The floor felt cool beneath him, and it seeped through his jacket to help out the cold already clinging tenaciously to his innards. He heard a strange, rasping sound, and realized that it was his own breathing.

" Stand down!" Someone shouted, a familiar female voice. Faces moved into his line of sight, human faces, and familiar to boot.

" Major?"

" Sheppard!"

" John!"

Now too many voices.

" John, lad, can you hear me?"

John smiled. " C-Carson... h-hey..." The need to cough consumed him. He hacked, gasped, sputtered, and choked.

" He's coughing up blood..."

_Way to state the obvious, doc._

" We need to move him..."

John didn't hear the rest. He didn't have the strength to, and it didn't matter at any rate. He was home.

The last thing he heard was the rush of the gate shutting down, and he smiled again.

" Thanks kid."

_Good owner. Great friend. _

SGSGSGSGSGSGSG

A/N: One more chappy to go. Then it's off to Disneyland! Hah! No, not likely. More like off to bed. One in the morning, yeah, definitely off to bed. Tra-la-la, la-la...


	11. Epilogeu: Home

A: Sheppard! You're home, boy! But no sudden miraculous recoveries for you. Now to tie up some loose ends.

Ch. 11

Epilogue: Home

It was like Sheppard was on display. No one could get enough of seeing him, as though not being able to see him meant that he might vanish and that his presence had just been one mass hallucination.

_And it's not like he's a real pretty sight to look at._ Still, even McKay couldn't avoid veering to the infirmary, even if the simple act of 'veering' involved many detours along his route just to happenstance pass by.

_Well, I'm here, might as well drop in. Who am I kidding?_ But McKay wasn't going to deny it if asked. Just like with everyone else, he needed John's presence – alive and on the road to wellness – burned into his head.

That wellness road was going to be a long one.

The moment Rodney had laid eyes on John after he'd tumbled through the gate, his gut had started to churn. When Carson had removed the Major's jacket, intending to follow suit with a shirt that wasn't there to attach monitoring equipment, Rodney had nearly lost his lunch.

Sheppard's body was a mottled mess of dark bruises, cuts, scabs, and deep gashes, and he was so thin that X-rays didn't seem necessary.

_I can count how many freakin' ribs the man's got from half-way across the room! Even with a scrub on him!_ Needless to say, it brought no end of shock to Rodney. John had a broken leg, broken arm, broken ribs – the man was just plain... broken. He was fighting a fever, had a severe infection in his lungs that had him coughing up blood, was malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted – deteriorated.

_And what the hell is that mark around his neck!_

But he was alive.

Yes, McKay was very glad for that. But there was something about seeing Sheppard in his skeletal, scarecrow-like state that made him uncomfortable and a little nauseas. It wasn't that it was gross or anything, just... not right. That was the only way Rodney knew how to put it. A weak, helpless, muted Sheppard was as unnatural as a fish that didn't need water, and – sometimes – it was hard to look at.

McKay made himself watch, though. During a visit, whenever John began trembling because he was cold even with so many blankets on, coughing out blood, or moaning because he hurt and didn't have the energy to even writhe, Rodney just stared. Anyone observing might have considered it an act of morbid fascination. However, he wasn't the only one doing it. Ford, Teyla, Dr. Weir, even Beckett, they all just stared no matter how bad what they were watching got (of course, Beckett was normally working to remedy the problem while observing).

They didn't dare look away.

_We looked away once, and lost him. He fell while our backs were turned._ Never again, though. To turn away would have felt like a metaphorical slap to John's face, an act of self-preservation to avoid the pity and stabbing heartache of watching someone – a friend someone – suffering so much.

_Serves us right anyways. _McKay had a feeling the others shared the sentiment. They were never turning their backs on Sheppard again, not even to walk out of the infirmary.

SGSGSGSGSG

" Doc, I'd like to lodge a formal complaint against the chef," John murmured hoarsely in the act of setting the glass of liquid 'food' (that instant breakfast crap or something like it) on the small metal table next to his bed. His hand was a little slow about moving since it was mainly occupied with trying not to let the glass slip from his unsteady fingers. The nurse took it from him before he got it over the floor between the bed and table.

" Thanks," he whispered, and coughed. It hurt to cough in every possible way, in every bone and muscle, but at least the annoying itch in his lungs was only that – an annoyance not requiring full-blown lung-hacks. What was even more annoying was the little breathing apparatus in his nose that was supposedly 'aiding' him in getting enough oxygen.

_Like hell it is._

Carson, who was looking over Sheppard's recent chest X-ray, quirked the corner of his mouth up in a grin. " That would be me then. I'm the one who slapped that little beauty of a concoction together. And it's all you'll be digestin' until your stomach becomes re-accustomed to proper food. If you haven't already noticed, you seemed to have had a little run in with near-starvation."

John tilted his head back against the pillow of the upturned upper-part of his bed. " Kind of hard to miss, doc." He closed his eyes for a moment.

" You tired John?"

John sighed. " Yeah, kind of." He opened one eye and rolled it in Carson's direction. " How's it look?"

Beckett grimaced, sucking air through his teeth with a hiss. " Hard to say. Looks about the same, but with all the crap that you're body's been through, it's going to take a little more time for your bones to heal, I think. That's why you need to get the nutrients back in you to help speed things up a bit."

John re-closed his eyes and nodded very slightly. That led weight feeling was pulling his mind down, and images began flitting through his brain fast and brief.

_Hole, rocks, sand, big trees, big birds, Dino-folk, dino-kids, Junior, Junior carrying him, Junior and bullies, mutant vultures..._

_Tell us, John..._

John snapped his eyes open with a gasp, and the heart-monitor by his bed took up a rapid beep.

" You all right lad?" Carson asked. Now he was changing the bag connected to the I.V. He finished up quickly, then moved over to John, pulling the layers of blankets up past his shoulders. " You're shakin', do you need more blankets?"

John rubbed the sling cradling his casted arm. " I need to talk."

Beckett's brow lined with confusion. " All right? Talk about what?"

" What happened to me." Now it was John doing the brow furrowing, and he looked at Beckett questioningly. " Did any of you ever ask me what happened? I'm mean, I'm not trying to accuse anyone of _not_ asking, I – I just can't remember."

Beckett inclined his head in the affirmative. " Aye, a couple of times when we thought you were awake but – in fact – you weren't that lucid. I think I heard you mention something about... a _Junior? _Other than that, I kind of dismissed the questions for you. You needed rest, every minute of rest. Plus, the vast majority of the time someone came in to check on you, you were already out cold."

Disorientation began slinking up on John, scratching at the back of his mind, sending his thoughts into a whirl-wind of confusion. In all his relief and joy at being home, he had yet to ask a few questions of his own.

" Beckett... How – how long was I – you know – gone?"

At this, Carson's features melted into an expression of sympathy and worry. " Nearly two months, about a month and a half."

The news made John's heart jolt, which action was given away by the big-mouthed heart monitor. But, king of composure that he was, John managed to hold back any facial reaction.

" Oh. A m – month and a half. Okay, then. How long have I been in the infirmary?"

" Two weeks give or take a day. Your fever broke about two days ago and has been decreasing. You're on the mend, Major, even if it doesn't feel to be the case."

" Yeah, good."

The furrowed brow look returned. " You all right Major?"

John looked at Beckett, a little pleadingly, a little desperately, but he didn't care. He didn't even care anymore that he was so weak, practically frail even among other humans.

_I've been the fragile little biped for almost two-months. I can take it for another two months if I have to._ Physical limitations passed, bones healed, muscle-tone could be reestablished – it would take time, but he could regain what he had lost, and he would.

John removed his hand from beneath the blanket to touch his neck. He had other matters to occupy his mind, taking him miles from any notions of self-pity.

" I need to talk, with everyone," he said. Then smiled slightly. " While I'm still lucid."

Beckett nodded. " All right. I'll get the others." He turned to head from the infirmary, when John had an epiphany.

" Hey, doc, wait."

Beckett stopped and turned back. " Yes?"

" Could you give me some paper and a pen or marker or something? I – I want to do something."

Carson took a moment to consider this, then shrugged and altered his route to the small room he used as an office. " Sure."

John grinned.

SGSGSGSGSGSG

They were all there, all gathered in the infirmary – Weir, Rodney, Teyla, and Ford. And as Carson checked John's vitals and watched his patient with a hawk's eye for the slightest hint of fatigue, John told his story.

As excepted, he was met with wide-eyed, slack-jawed, incredulity.

" So that explains the strange yellow substance sticking to your back," Carson said, breaking the awkward silence. " I've been doin' some tests – remarkable stuff really. Great regenerative capabilities, though it does have a slightly unpleasant odor."

The awkward silence returned and lingered for a second.

" A -a _pet_?" Rodney said at last. John almost grinned. He knew it was going to be the first question. He pulled his hand from under the blanket and rubbed his marked throat.

" From a leash," he said.

Rodney blinked in horror. " Oh my gosh!"

John shrugged. " It wouldn't have been so bad if the food had been up to par and the kids weren't ten million times bigger than me. Junior – he took care of me, he really did. He saved my life."

" Junior," Weir said. " Your _owner_?"

" Yeah, that's what I called him. They didn't speak in words, just a lot of dolphin talk."

Now it was Ford who looked horrified. " So – those tracks I found – those must have been Junior's. Y-You weren't eaten."

John almost laughed at that, but the looks on everyone's face stopped the laugh from bursting out of his mouth. Something was wrong. The expected looks of shock, disbelief and horror were present, of course, but something else was lingering between the other three emotions.

_Better not be pity_. It seemed like pity, at first, or worry. Then, when Ford quickly averted his stricken gaze when John tried to meet his eyes, it finally hit Sheppard. The realization touched him, as well as infuriated him.

" Don't you even," he said in low, dangerous tones.

Ford looked back at John, startled, and even a little afraid. " W-what?"

John flicked his eyes to each person. " Don't you dare feel guilty about leaving me behind."

McKay's jaw practically did the proverbial drop to the floor. " What? Guilty?" Then he deflated some. " How – how did you... I mean, we did. We did leave you behind. It's pretty obvious that we did."

" We gave up on you sir," Ford said apologetically.

" No!" John snapped. " No you did not! I know you all of you. You wouldn't have done that, you..." He rolled his eyes in frustration. " Listen, let me tell you something. The whole time I was down in that underworld, I had a lot of time to think. Mostly, I was thinking about what I was seeing, what was going on, and trying to figure out a way to get home. You know what I didn't think about, or ask myself? Why you people didn't save my butt. You know why? Because I knew you couldn't. I knew, because if you had been able to, you would have. You want me to list all the times you've pulled my carcass out of the fire even when the odds were practically trying to rip your throats out? Do you? Because I will. I never _once_, the entire time I was tied to that leash, pondered why you hadn't come barreling into the caves with a jumper, searching me out. You tried, I know you tried, it's what you do. _None of you – know how – to give up_. You tried – then, you accepted the inevitable. I mean, come on, how the hell were you supposed to consider that I might have been picked up to be a pet? How many times have you heard about something like that happening? You _did not_ fail me."

" You didn't fail me, and apparently you didn't give up on me. If you had, I wouldn't be here right now. If you had, you wouldn't have let a man you thought was dead back through the gate. So don't you _dare_ think you failed, just because you didn't know any better."

No one spoke, but they didn't need to. Body-language was saying enough. Ford relaxed, McKay started in surprise, Teyla smiled some, and moisture threatened to cascade from Weir's eyes.

Beckett nodded approval. " You're good, lad."

John sighed, feeling slightly spent. " It's the truth. You can't deny the truth."

" Thank you, Major Sheppard," Teyla said. John waved his limpid hand dismissively.

" Whatever. I just don't want to put up with a bunch of broody team-mates. Crap happens, you know that. Don't dwell on it."

" So does exhaustion," Beckett said. " You said your peace, Major. Now for peace and quiet. You rest more, and things should start coming up roses more."

John dropped his head back against the pillow. " Yeah, that'd be great."

The others took the hint, and began to leave, all with small smiles that weren't there moments ago.

" When your brain's not skipping about in drug-induced happy-land," McKay said before departing, " I'd like to discuss this underworld a little more. Maybe get a better description of these dino-things?"

John pointed at him. " Maybe I can do you one better."

" What, bring one back?"

John yawned. " You'll see."

" Not _Dune_/_Tremor_ worms, right?"

" Not even close."

Rodney smiled, nodded, then left, the last one to leave.

" Sleep up, lad," Carson said, patting John's shoulder. He turned, heading off to deal with other medical matters. After all, not everything medical on Atlantis centered around John.

When Beckett was gone, John reached under the blankets and pulled out several sheets of paper marked up with sketches. He had a small flare for the artistic, very small, but enough to make his sketches portray the general physiological idea of the dino-folk. He Flipped through them, surveying his work to make sure it was satisfactory, until he came to the one he'd been searching for.

He pulled it from the others, setting the stack on the table for Rodney to find, without taking his eyes off his favorite. He chuckled softly at the picture of a stick-figure self, riding a stick figure Junior – leash (reluctantly) included.

The end.

A/N: That's all folks! I would ask if you had enjoyed this story, but from all the awesome reviews I received, I already know that you did. And I'm so happy! You are all so awesome! Imaginary cakes for all! I would also like to thank everyone for their contributions toward saving Sheppard. As you can see, he has been saved and is on the mend. You know our boy'll be back to himself in no time, and the adventures will continue. And John, you're free to go now. Sorry about the abuse.

All questions concerning the dino-folk, their ways, why they took John back to the gate, why they didn't identify him sooner as one of the strange bipeds that had crash-landed in the caves, will be left up to the imagination. Someone made mention of the creatures being mentioned in the archives. Chances are, they probably were, but under a strange name. Still, now that McKay knows what to look for, they'll be able to find a little extra info on them, mayhap.

FYI: I _am _planning on doing another SGA fic. My piranha muse is at it again, chewing the crap out of my leg, with the pirate backing it up by keeping me tied to the mast (curse ye twin of Jack Sparrow!) You SGA writers are also to blame (Drufan, Titan5, to name a few) for your own wonderful stories that have been spawning ideas in my head. I've been toying with a particular idea, and it's almost ready. As for Junior making future appearances – definitely not in my upcoming tale, but who knows what the future holds for our young giant quadruped.

Also, I am granting permission for stories being done involving one or more of the ten worlds on the list that had led the team to Junior's planet. Make up what you'd like. You can also have some tie-ins to _Leash_ if you wish. I'll give you whatever info you need. No Junior involvement, though. He's all mine.


End file.
